First Arrival
by Alathea2
Summary: Following a signal indicating the possible location of the AllSpark, the Autbots arrive on Earth to find an unusual organic species: alien and yet much like their own.  A re-telling of TF1 from the 'Bots' POV. Movieverse. Rated T just in case. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

_ I wrote this little piece after I watched the first movie and was not thrilled with what the novelization had to offer. I thought it was too much from the human perspective. I wanted more from the 'Bot's view of the world. This is strictly movieverse (with a little AU thrown in there to fill in the gaps). Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional. _

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><p>The sparkling blue and green world stretched out below Bumblebee as he settled into a high orbit. Initial scans indicated a network of tiny and extremely primitive, albeit clearly mechanical, satellites in orbit. Much like something he would see in the earliest history exhibits back on Cybertron. From a distance he was unable to determine their exact capabilities compared to his own so he had opted for safety, using the planet's single moon as cover for his final approach. Using the closer distance to more carefully scan the planet, the relatively small Autobot was able to determine the best path for gaining access to the planet itself.<p>

Now he hung in geosynchronous orbit over a part of that world that seemed most promising to his objectives.

With one final scan of the surface beneath him, Bumblebee began to fold in upon himself, transforming into his cometary mode while simultaneously he began to descend into the atmosphere.

The planet's atmosphere was thick relative to other worlds he had explored, so he knew the heat that would build up on his armor would be substantial. Not damaging, but it would generate a blaze of light visible from some distance. The solar system boasted a heavily populated asteroid belt and even the planet's moon showed ample evidence of multiple impacts from such bodies. He detected evidence of similar impacts on the surface of the planet he was now rapidly descending towards.

If he stayed in cometary mode after landing until he could assure the immediate area was clear, it was possible none of the local inhabitants – if any happened to witness his landing – would think him anything but that: an errant spatial debris.

It was a possibility anyway.

As he descended he allowed himself to contemplate his initial evaluation of the satellites that littered the heavens in orbit around this planet. There had been no response to his attempts to communicate, and when he probed further he was easily able to distinguish the multiple streams of digital communication flowing up from the planet's surface to the satellites and back to the planet. It was then that he had realized the machines were not sentient after all. Not even semi-sentient drones. The complete and total lack of awareness in those…_machines…_ was a novel thing for him, but the evidence was inescapable.

That meant something on the surface was responsible for their creation. That meant intelligent life.

The ground was approaching rapidly and Bumblebee braced for the impact. He would have preferred to slow and transform in a more dignified landing – but he was imitating a meteorite for the benefit of the local inhabitants. He was a scout, and that meant he was not to draw attention to himself. At least not more than he had to.

When the landing came, Bumblebee gouged a crater into the soft earth, sending a plume of dirt and burning shrubs into the sky. Then all was still.

Bumblebee waited to see if he had been detected, all sensors straining at maximum capacity, scanning at the extreme limits of his abilities. But except for the sounds of retreating organic wildlife, nothing resembling intelligent investigation of his presence came to his attention.

Without another moment's hesitation, he transformed back into his native protoform. There was not much time to waste. Optimus Prime had seemed very sure _this_ was the planet the strange transmission had come from. He had seemed confident that such evidence of possible intelligence, combined with the faint Cybertronian resemblance of the signal itself, indicated the possible presence of the AllSpark.

_Ah, if it were so._ Like all Autobots, Bumblebee longed to return to the comfortable mechanical landscapes of Cybertron. It had been literally millennia since he and the others – those working together directly with Optimus and others, scattered among the stars – had last seen their home world.

_Perhaps now peace is at hand._ He thought as he straightened, towering over the other living things in the area. Only the few trees nearby rivaled him for height.

Trees. He looked around, scanning closely as he did so. Every living thing within sight was organic and very alien. It was odd for sentient mechanical life and abundant organic life to coexist naturally on the same planet.

He frowned. His experience exploring countless other worlds in fruitless searches for the AllSpark lead him to make one inescapable conclusion: If there was _intelligent_ life on this planet, it must also be organic.

The possibilities of such an uncommon occurrence teased his cognitive processors. That would be a remarkable discovery, one his fellow Autobots would doubtless find hard to believe.

With a silent electronic transmission to the others, Bumblebee let them know of his safe arrival. He then headed in the direction of a confluence of artificially constructed structures, consisting of multiple rectangular shaped edifices positioned along regular organizational lines. A series of interlocking artificial pathways formed a network around the area, much like the vessels carrying his internal life fluids to his vital systems. It was as good a place to start as any. It reminded him vaguely of some of the city's on Cybertron, but on a much, much smaller and shorter scale. Perhaps he was imagining things.

In any case, it was the only indication of intelligence that was nearby. Nearby being a relative term.

To pass the time during his journey, Bumblebee leisurely perused the various transmissions available to him on this planet. It was an amazingly large quantity of them, considering the planet was dominated by organic life forms who could not possibly utilize them as he could. It was intriguing. And, in doing so, he learned the language of the local population, as well as a good deal about their culture. They were fascinating, especially as far as organics went. They were filled with many contradictions, that much was clear, even if many of the colloquialisms were alien to him.

He found the study stimulating. One of those things that distinguished him from his fellow Autobots, as well as making him an excellent scout.

As he approached the nearest of those flat pathways he squatted down behind some vegetation. His optics easily picked up a large volume of vehicular traffic, almost like a swarm of small mechanized insects. It was something he had never seen before. Some were large and multiwheeled, others much smaller with only two wheels. Most were in between. They all followed each other on parallel tracts, but at varying speeds. It was orderly and logical actually. An indication of intelligence at work, at least on some level.

Except that each one hosted one or more symbiotic organic organism. Bumblebee tried to hail one of the strange vehicles to inquire about the strange arrangement, but they kept whizzing past completely unaware of his presence. Was it possible that the vehicles themselves were as devoid of independent intelligence as the primitive satellites in space?

Turning his more sensitive scanning sensors on the vehicles he gave the electronic equivalent of a sigh. These vehicles were just as primitive as he had feared, some more than others, but clearly not intelligent in and of themselves. And, he shuddered to think about it, not even alive.

But it was more evidence that, as improbable as it might seem, the organics within were the intelligent brains and the vehicles merely tools.

That lead to another question. If those organics only knew of mechanical entities as nothing more than tools – what might they think if they saw him?

Better not to risk that until he knew more about these small creatures. Even if they were not a threat to him, it was possible that knowledge of his existence could prove too much for them to handle. He did not want to cause harm to any of them, especially if they _were _sentient.

Bumblebee continued to watch the vehicles and their organic occupants drive past. Though relatively uniform, there was an amazing amount of diversity in color, shape and the finer details of style. Then his visual preceptors were attracted to a bright yellow shape with two broad black stripes running parallel from front to back. It was intriguingly pleasing to look at; up beat and optimistic, much like his own personality. And the color scheme matched his preferred combination in his other alt-modes. This particular vehicle was more primitive than the others around it, but the throaty growl its painfully simple internal combustion engine made was engaging.

_Perfect._

Simple scanning beams changed to the more complex transcan waves and in the mere blink of an organic eye, Bumblebee had scanned the primitive contraption thoroughly enough to be able to reproduce it exactly – down to the peeling synthetic pigmented covering on the tiny beads hanging from its rearview mirror.

Seconds later, Bumblebee's protoform began to change, folding in on itself and telescoping downward until what looked like exact replica of the speeding 1976's Camaro idled negligently on the grass behind the vegetation that had been hiding the bipedal robot moments before. An exact replica, that is, except for the enameled decal imbedded in the middle of his copied custom steering wheel and several other minor improvements on the original, including an engine that was not dependant on fossil fuels even if it looked like it was.

Bumblebee took half a second to evaluate his assumed body. Primitive to be sure – confined to simple rolling locomotion, but the configuration suggested the ability for significant acceleration and agility. At least on relatively flat surfaces. Like that of the long linear expanse of a hardened mixture of crushed rock and limestone pavement all the lifeless vehicles followed.

Revving the engine experimentally, Bumblebee pushed through the plants screening him from the road and edged forward. A brief lull in the traffic provided all the time he needed to take his place in the seemingly ceaseless flow.

Careful to maneuver in a way that blended in with the local traffic, Bumblebee devoted a portion of his neural circuitry to further investigation of the area. Some of the audio transmissions he intercepted consisted of heavily modulated sound waves that made no logical sense to him on first inspection – least of all was any indication as to their purpose. What possible use could a possibly intelligent organic species have with so many simultaneous transmissions? Such puzzling creatures.

Another part of his cognitive circuitry he used to experiment with his new body, seeking to learn about the creatures that created the original by studying a facsimile of that creation. It was absurdly simple really. The control mechanisms and instrument paneling suggested a limited functional ability, especially where information input and resulting physical reaction were concerned. But one of the instruments on his dash suggested a use for all of those transmissions.

As he fiddled with the knobs of said instrument - an instrument seemingly designed to transform those digital signals into audio wavelengths perceivable by organic auditory organs – a strange noise erupted from speakers scattered throughout his interior. As he switched from signal to signal the noise emanating from those speakers changed too.

_So they don't use them simultaneously after all._ _ A shame, so much wasted…_

Then a new thought hit Bumblebee like a Deception's minor weapon might have. The hint of a possibility he would never have thought possible – especially on a primitive, organically inhabited world. Optimus Prime had charged him with investigating the weak signal the great leader had intercepted and, if necessary make contact with the local intelligent life forms. If possible.

Opening his perception to the entirety of the incoming signals, Bumblebee devoted only the handful of cognitive functions necessary to simultaneously parse and organize them, channeling them methodically through his speakers. Utilizing his newly acquired familiarity with the language of his unwitting hosts to make a coherent thought.

A lilting female voice, "Welcome, welcome, everybody."

An almost instantaneous change of signals and another voice blared out, "Man, oh man, have I got news for you!"

Another change and a rather harsh sounding voice followed the others, "Truth? You can't handle the truth!"

Bumblebee chuckled at the thought. Then sobered. How many of these organics _would_ be able to handle the truth about him?

He aimed to find out.

His experiment had worked though.

He was finally able to do something he hadn't been able to do since his vocal processor had been ripped out by Megatron so long ago, thousands of this little planet's orbits around its primary star. It was not his voice, and the ability was dependent on the availability of sufficient and adequately relevant audio and visual transmissions, but he was able to communicate with others vocally.

And with the plethora of such signals dancing around this planet, there should always be _something_ applicable to choose from.

Wait until the others found out.

He could not wait to see the looks on their faces.

Laughing to himself, Bumblebee raced onward toward – if he understood the written signs scattered at regular intervals correctly – a place called Houston.

Even if the Organics had missed Bumblebee's landing, Blackout did not. In fact, the Autobot's presence here on this planet only served to motivate the Decepticon's determination to find out for sure whether or not there was anything to that weak signal the Nemesis had intercepted. And he knew he had to find out before that miscreant could do so himself.

...

Disdaining his previously ineffectual yet clandestine efforts at recognizance, Blackout decided to take a much more direct approach. It was obvious by now that the general population at large knew nothing either about Megatron's possible presence or the Allspark. That left their military. It did not take much investigation to determine which tribal conglomeration of these pathetic insects was the most powerful among themselves. The fact that their more advanced weapons seemed to slightly hint at Cybertronian origin only confirmed that observation.

Adding some of his own more advanced propulsion ability to the pathetically slow rotating blades that provided both lift and locomotive force for his terrestrial disguise, Blackout made haste to one of the more remote and containable insect outpost.

Half a world away from where Bumblebee was entering his first human city to explore, Blackout thundered across sandy dunes and arid wastelands. As expected, his sensors picked up the patrolling aircraft well before they could even hope to detect him. He slowed to a speed that his chosen guise would actually be able to achieve.

It did not take long before the crude audio communication device boasted by his current shape crackled to life.

"Unidentified aircraft, you have entered restricted US military airspace. Squawk ident and proceed east to heading…" Blackout ignored the rest of what the human on the other end of the radio said.

_That pitiful insect needs a lesson._ Blackout thought as he continued on his present course, not deigning to send a reply.

It did not take long for those aircraft he had detected earlier to alter their heading to intercept him.

Blackout ignored them as well, knowing they could not hurt him. When they neared, the same message was sent to him again, though form a different voice; one that originated from one of the clumsily constructed aircraft.

When Blackout did not respond, the faster aircraft zipped past him only to loop around to take escort positions off to each side. It was but the work of a salvage drone to eavesdrop on the transmission the lead craft sent back to its base.

"_No reply. Tail ID 4500 X-Ray. Its possible their radio might just be out, its one of ours and they haven't done anything threatening."_

"_Roger that." _ Their leader told them. _"Escort them in. We will deal with this on the ground."_

_Yes, you will._ Blackout thought as the pilot acknowledged the order.

The next transmission from the human's base almost made him laugh. "4500 X Ray, we will escort you to US forward operations SOCCENT Air base. You will comply or we will use deadly force."

_Stupid insect._ Blackout chortled to himself, the clearly alien electronic warble it produced unheard by the human pilots surrounded by perceptionless metal husks and the roar of their painfully primitive chemical based propulsion systems.

But, if they wanted to escort him to his destination, who was he to argue?

Constrained by the slow pace of the Fleshies' machines, it was early night by the time Blackout touched down on the landing strip that had been specially prepared for his arrival. He remembered to rezz up a pilot before he descended too low and only on second thought was surprised the pilots of the two escort crafts had not noticed.

With commendable speed, especially for organics, they had him surrounded. Blackout laughed at them with half of his cognitive circuitry while scanning the buildings for what he was looking for with the other half. It did not take long. They did not do a good job disguising such things.

"You will power down your engines now, or we will kill you." The transmission came almost immediately upon landing.

_Go ahead and try! _ Blackout thought as he slowed the rotors that had lifted the helicopter he pretended to be. Then he stopped the blades entirely, something one of _their_ pitiful vessels could not have done. The insects were intelligent enough to realize that. Weapons were armed and orders given. Interestingly, like those weakly, sentimental Autobots, they refrained from firing those weapons. For the moment.

But Blackout did not stop there. The blades rotated and then swung back as he transformed from gunship to towering bipedal robot. The organics opened fire with their toy-like projectiles – all of which bounced harmlessly off his armor. Their assault hardly even qualified as annoying.

With one blast from a lesser of his integrated weapons, all the fleshlings and their machines ceased to exist, pieces and parts blown into the sky.

Using the weaponry on only one arm, Blackout walked toward the centrally located building he had identified as the electronic information hub of the small outpost. Peeling the metal roof off like a flake of fabric, he took capricious delight in seeing the tiny insects run for non-existent cover. Seeing the server he wanted, he reached for it with the arm not engaged in a very one-sided combat. A nanosecond later, with arcs of electricity spraying outward from the point of contact, interface was achieved.

He sorted through the information with lightning speed and started to shriek his victory when the information feed suddenly ended. The victory cry turned into an outraged roar as he turned optics into the building. A gray haired human insect, in contrast to most of his hive-mates who trying to scurry away, was staring straight at him. A sharp, wedge-shaped blade was grasped in his hands and next to him, the sparking remnants of severed power lines and data chords still sizzled, leaving Blackout a very clear picture of what had happened.

Outraged to be outwitted by a mere insect, furious that a patently inferior being should even _attempt_ to interfere, the hand that had been accessing the primitive computer system morphed smoothly into a weapon. The squishy insect's eyes widened a moment before the room and everything in it was blown into its constituent parts. The firing from the other insects continued and now, with nothing else to do, Blackout turned all weapons systems on wiping out the entire base.

As he progressed down the line of lifeless aircraft and tanks, the human insects finally began to scatter. A small group – including one that was clearly a young juvenile – sprinted across his path. All but one made it to the dubious shelter of a few waiting 'armored' vehicles. The one that failed to make it was thrown backwards by the concussion that ran through the ground as Blackout stepped down and fell between his feet.

He did not scream, as so many of the other insects were doing, but instead pointed something up at him. It was clearly not a weapon. Pausing from his rampage, Blackout looked at him a little closer. It was an ocular device, and through it he could see himself reflected back but not in simple visible light but in infrared. It revealed little, but it was too much for his taste.

"How dare you, dirty insect!" Blackout yelled at him in a half-second's electronic screech of Cybertronian and turned a lesser weapon on the upstart organic.

Divining the danger he was in, the dark-skinned human scrambled to his feet to hastily join his companions. Blackout's blast harmlessly gouged the dirt in his wake.

_Even better._ He aimed at the lot of them and fired again. But the insects proved adept at running away and he missed. To make matters worse, they were rapidly heading toward the perimeter of the base. If Blackout followed to kill them, there was a chance the others would get out a call for help. He had to deal with them before he could follow the handful of escapees. Thankfully, like a few other Decepticons, he had other options.

_/Scorponok, finish them./_

With an electronic chirp, his multilegged, vaguely scorpion shaped symbiot peeled off his back and burrowed into the ground.

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><p><em>Note: Well, this was my first attempt at fanfic. I hope that if you made it this far, you enjoyed it. Please review. I have more of this story written but will decide how far to take it depending on its reception. Let me know if you want to read more.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional. _

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><p>With minimal effort and a little time spent observing the goings on of the organics – whom Bumblebee learned referred to themselves as humans – in the city they called Houston, the scout was able to distinguish which buildings housed official government offices. The ability to covertly monitor their communications helped tremendously. These humans seemed obsessed with bureaucracy, but then, there were so many of them, they probably had to be in order to keep any level of order at all in their society.<p>

It did not take long for Bumblebee to determine that the general population was blissfully ignorant of most that was going on around them and that nothing resembling the AllSpark was even an imagined possibility. Bumblebee quickly narrowed down a possible location to find out about the intercepted vaguely Cybertronian signal, however.

It was a complex of buildings that seemed dedicated to monitoring and communicating with many of those satellites in orbit. A place proudly highlighted on every public map of the area as the Johnson Space Center. Bumblebee did not know who or what a Johnson was - though it sounded like one of their peculiar personal designations. "Space Center" was at least a useful descriptive title.

Slowing as he approached the entrance to the designated facility, Bumblebee scanned the area. All entrances were gated and posted with human guards position to screen incoming vehicles.

He did a slow, long block around the fenced in area curious as to why such a large amount of seemingly untouched land was included inside the fence. It was clear, however, that he would not easily gain access to anything within the fence without drawing attention to himself. He could do it, but as an Autobot there were other options available to him as well.

Circling back around to the Space Center's primary entrance, Bumblebee pulled into the parking lot of a small organic food preparation building called Wendy's and shut off his terrestrial engine.

He then set about mapping the flow of information signals to and from the Space Center. Bumblebee was surprised all over again to see that many of the buildings _outside_ the complex were communicating closely to the main collection of buildings. While doing so he idly noted all human buildings appeared to be rather uniform and were relatively feebly constructed block-like cement structures with internal ferrous support beams. Thinking of the architectural achievements and diversity of Iacon, Polyhex, Praxia and even Kaon he could not help but wonder; did the species lack creativity? But then, the redundant building modalities was probably related to their level of technological development: they were rather primitive after all.

With speed that would have made the progenitors of NASA's fastest super computer shake their heads in sheer disbelief, Bumblebee filtered through everything he found.

Though most was rather mundane and ordinary – not to mention ridiculously simple in logic if not erroneous in some of its scientific conclusions – there was one thing that caught Bumblebee's attention. It was not the information that was transmitted, but in _how_ it was transmitted. Most of the signals were fairly open and unprotected. But there was one line of communication that was more closely guarded. At least it was more encrypted than anything else he had seen. Not that it was difficult for him to decipher: it was not. But it was also packaged in a way that would have made it blend into the background traffic of the multiplicity of signals that almost polluted the area so as not to draw attention to its self.

In many ways it seemed beyond what these humans were capable of – almost like it was a pitiful attempt to mimic something they could not fully understood.

_AllSpark!_

His enthusiasm for this heretofore seemingly fruitless search spiked.

With ease, Bumblebee traced the stray transmission and found it lead to a collection of relatively low-slung, asymmetrically shaped buildings several blocks away all of which were made of a particular red-ish colored brick, all smooth lines and no sharp angles on its exterior. At least it was an attempt to do something different.

To Bumblebee's further surprise – and initial disappointment – the parking area was smaller and immediately and easily available from the road. Surely nothing of any significance and secrecy would be so publically accessible. But he had come this far, might as well follow this lead through entirely.

Careful to keep the sound of his terrestrial motor low enough not to attract undue attention, Bumblebee entered the parking lot that would take him closest to the source of the signal.

Then he waited.

As planetary nightfall approached his current location, the building began to empty of its human occupants. Several hours after the sun had disappeared, most, but not all, of the human vehicles were gone. With a quick scan of the area to ensure no one was in a position to witness his next action, Bumblebee eased himself forward, over the curb and right up to a simple metal box that housed the buildings external telecommunications wiring.

Making contact, it was a matter of seconds before he had established a connection. He was quickly sifting through the information when one of the images caused him to pause his searching. One of the human's painfully simplistic survey drones named Beagle 2 – what ever a beagle was – sent to the planet they called Mars had discovered something before it ceased transmitting. It was an image that none of the humans could have hoped to correctly identify not having the requisite frame of reference.

But Bumblebee did.

_Starscream!_

He considered the related file more closely and found a reference to something called NBE 1. A nanosecond spent digging revealed a historical reference to the same object but called "Ice Man" reportedly discovered near the planet's northern pole by a man named Archibald Witwicky. And an image of this Ice Man.

Had he been able, he would have gulped as old memory files flashed their contents through his cognitive processors. Images and sensations of that same being standing on top of him, one pincer like hand wrapped around his throat as one massive foot had pinned him, helpless, to the ground. Only the desperate onslaught of renewed fire from his colleagues had driven Megatron away. But in leaving he had ripped Bumblebees vocal processor out of his neck causing the only damage Ratchet had not been able to fix entirely.

Megatron was _here,_ on _this_ planet.

The thought filled the sun-bright mech with dread.

Megatron would not have come to Earth without a reason, Bumblebee knew that for sure. And Starscream would not be here for his former master, seeing as the other Decepticon enjoyed his vaunted position as the de facto Decepticon leader. But there was something that _could_ draw both of them.

The AllSpark

But obviously they had not discovered it yet, for the Autobots would have found out about that rather quickly if they had. That meant there was still hope. Bumblebee had to find out more, and he had to do so before Starscream could.

Some instinctual subroutine alerted him that the thirty seconds he had spent in contact with the building's communication portal was likely to draw attention at any moment, so he disengaged and slowly eased himself away from the building. So distracted was he by his unsettling discovery, Bumblebee failed to notice the alert signal that had started to silently pulse from the building.

Once a safe distance and surrounded by the vehicles belonging to a rather rowdy group of humans occupying a building garnished with flashing multicolored lights with extremely loud, pulsating sound waves emanating from every opening, Bumblebee accessed the human's World Wide Web.

An ingenuous creation really, the Internet was, especially for organics. Who would have thought that and organic species would think of making such a mass of information so readily available. It was almost Autobot like.

Once online, he did a search for the Witwicky man in the historical record he had accessed from the government building. If he still lived, he might be able to help. But the man had disappeared. Shortly after the record was made a group of humans going by the unit appellation "Sector Seven" had seen to it he was admitted into a holding facility designed for those with some form of dysfunction to their organic cerebral processors. He had not been heard from since. And considering the human's ridiculously short lifespan, it was doubtful he was evens till alive.

Frustration threatened to rev Bumblebee's engine just when he came across another handful of references. It was distantly connected, but worth the nanoseconds it took to examine it. This one was on a domain called EBay. It was some kind of electronic marketplace.

_An interesting concept_, Bumblebee allowed as he perused the short list of entries that had drawn his attention.

That entry consisted of a collection of even more archaic equipment – if they could rightly be called such – touted as having belonged to the "Famous explorer, Archibald Witwikcly: one of the first men to explore the Arctic Circle."

Bumblebee browsed the primitive collection, most of which was useless to his cause, but did lend support to the possibility that they did belong to the same Witwicky. Last on the list was a pair of human artificial visual enhancement adapters. Bumblebee's excitement intensified as he looked at the magnified image with the help of his superior ocular acuity.

The lenses were cracked, but clearly etched on their surface were microscopic reproductions of Cybertronian script. He could not read it, but knew Optimus Prime would be able to.

Revving his engine, and completely oblivious to the strange looks some passing humans cast in his direction, Bumblebee sent a summery of his discoveries to Optimus and the others.

Optimus' reply was quick in coming, transmitted almost instantaneously from their orbit well past the eighth planet in this system. _/Excellent work, Bumblebee, you must find the human that is in possession of those glasses and guard him no matter what. If you can discover the connection, so can Starscream./_

There was a pause and Ratchet's voice took over. /_Startscream seldom operates in isolation._/

_/Ratchet is correct./_ Optimus continued. _/There are doubtless more Decepticons on the planet. We are on our way. When you find the human, send appropriate coordinates and we will join you. Try to avoid open conflict if you can until we are there to support you. None of us want to loose you./_

Bumblebee had no argument there, he was a scout after all, not the heavily armored warriors that Optimus and Ironhide were. He knew he would not have a chance against Starscream.

He sent back another second and a half's worth of transmissions asking, _/Do I make it known to this human who I am?/_

There was a thoughtful pause before Optimus replied. _/Proceed carefully, but if possible, prepare said human for our arrival. It seldom takes much to overload delicate organic cognitive processors./_

_/Understood./_ Bumblebee acknowledged

_/And Bumblebee, since these humans are sentient, it is important that we do nothing that will harm them./_

Bumblebee accepted the admonition without dismay, it was what made them Autobots: A respect for the dignity and sanctity of all sentient life.

_/May your mission meet with success, Bumblebee./_ Optimus broke the connection

Had Bumblebee been a human technical specialist, he would have hummed to himself as he set about the task of finding the person currently in possession of those glasses. But the annoyingly repetitive sound waves emanating from the nearby human building were proving distracting. He opted to relocate to a more secluded location.

Once he found a sufficiently quiet area, he again accessed the Internet through the nearest Wi-Fi signal. The individual going by the title Ladiesman217 claimed to be a direct descendent of the Witwicky who had found Megatron. None of his personal information was readily available on the EBay site, but Bumblebee sensed it was there somewhere. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a violation of a sentient being's freedoms to pry and manipulate like he was about to do. But Ratchet's observation had merit. Startscream would not operate independently. Nor would he have any qualms about doing anything to this Ladiesman217 if he discovered the linkage.

His job was to protect this human, which was exactly what he would do.

It took very little effort to hack EBay's servers – hardly enough to even mention – and discover the human's true identity; a juvenile it appeared, by the name Samuel James Witwicky. His address was also easily uncovered. Using the human's own simple but effective search program, Bumblebee looked for the address. It was in a place called Tranquility.

A promising, hopeful name even if rather unusual.

He did not have much time to waste. In his present disguise it would take at least a day to reach that part of the human continent called America. Assuming he followed the posted speed limits.

However, before he left the quiet parking lot, Bumblebee did one more thing. It required only a simple adjustment to the underlying computer coding and he ensured that no one would be able to place a bid on those glasses. Ever.

Satisfied with himself, Bumblebee pulled out of the parking lot and onto a road the local humans called Interstate Forty Five and accelerated into the night. In the coming days he would regret the fact that in his enthusiasm, he did not think to delete all references to Ladiesman217 completely.

… … …

Blackout's hands squeezed into fists as Starscream continued his tirade. Of course, he knew he had failed to discover the information he had been sent after. Did the pompous Air Commander not think he realized that? He accepted this type of humiliation from Megatron because he knew the former Lord Protector would make good on his threats. Actually, Megatron did not even have to make many threats because his followers knew what he would do. They put up with it because he was a powerful and effective leader.

But Starscream… Oh what Blackout would not do to take the fool's helm and shove it up his aft.

Why did he put up with it? Actually, why had he put up with it for the eons Megatron had been missing?

"And you let some of those pathetic little vermin escape!" Stray tendrils of lubricant whistled out of the Seeker's mouth. "Of all the incompetent, glitched-proccessor things to do…"

"Scorponok still tracks them." Blackout cut the Air Commander off with a snarl. "They won't get away."

"If they do, the insects will know that we are here!"

"What would it matter if they did?" Barricade's scratchy base voice cut in. "They cannot stop us. They are weak and pathetic. I think it would be fun to see them try."

"But we still don't know where the AllSpark is located!" Starscream spun to face the smaller Decepticon.

"Or Megatron." Barricade growled.

"Right." Starscream added with an almost dismissive wave. "Or Megatron."

"_We_ can find out that information." Barricade's voice had almost turned into a dangerous purr.

"Who is we?" Blackout demanded, his pride still stinging from Starscream's rant he was not interested in tolerating the same from the young upstart.

"Frenzy and I, of course." Barricade turned away from Blackout, as if dismissing him. "Blackout went for too obvious a target. Clearly it is time to hand this assignment over to one who will be able to accomplish it." It was almost a challenge

Blackout growled.

Starscream hesitated only a moment. "See that you do or you will be begging me to send you to the Pit."

Barricade made an inarticulate sound dismissing the Air Commander's threat. "Save your breath."

Then the former Enforcer folded himself into his alt-form and a moment later the sleek Saleen police cruiser shot off into the night.

"I'll end him." Blackout ground, his fists still clenched.

Starscream huffed. "I doubt you'd be able to. You couldn't even deal with a few measly little insects." More lubricant splashed against Blackout's face plating.

Before Blackout could respond Starscream leapt into the air, transforming into an F-22 and was rocketing away.

Blackout growled again even though nothing but a few stray samples of organic wildlife were present to hear it.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional.

* * *

><p>Bumblebee found Tranquility nearly four earth hours after he had anticipated because of heavy road construction that was not listed on any of the readily available information sources. It had forced him to take a lengthy detour. Leave it to organics to fail in keeping such things up to date. It was to be expected, really, when such data input to the system relied on manual intention rather than more efficient automation.<p>

It was nearing dusk when Bumblebee found the dwelling place the website had indicated. He paused across the street several houses away to watch and turned his attention to a problem to which he had yet to derive a suitable answer.

How would he be able to maintain a suitable proximity to the young human in question in order to be able to fulfill his assigned duty? Every small parking area attached to these dwellings had at least one vehicle parked on it. Would it be as simple as parking at the Witwicky house?

Surely not. As different as they might be, Bumblebee doubted they would just accept a mysterious machine on their property that happened to appear without any logically justifiable reason.

Not if they were as intelligent as he suspected. As he was beginning to hope.

But would they grow suspicious of an unexplained vehicle shadowing them?

Probably.

He could easily remain hidden; that's what good scouts did. But it did raise another possibility. Would them finding out about his presence only cause alarm and panic, or would it give him an opportunity to make contact? Probably.

He would just have to do as Optimus had advised; proceed with caution.

Using sensors that were far more advanced than anything the humans had ever imagined, Bumblebee observed the human he was assigned to guard. He was by himself in a somewhat secluded second floor chamber of his brick and wood dwelling. No, Bumblebee corrected himself, not alone. He was speaking to an even smaller organic creature.

"Okay, Mojo. One more class, one more, that's it. One more 'A'. That's all I need. Okay, you want your pain pill, don't you? Alright, here you go. One more 'A', I can _do_ this."

The subspecies of canine only yipped back unintelligibly. So, the smaller organic was not intelligent. Yet the human spoke to it as if it was.

_Fascinating_.

Or was he really only talking to himself and the canine animal was simply a convenient outlet for that expression? He had no way of knowing at this point.

Humans, he had quickly discovered, powered down their internal systems every night to rest like Cybertronians did to recharge. It was something they called 'sleep.' It made them a lot more familiar in some ways, even if they had to do it more often than a 'bot had to recharge. He would need to ask Ratchet about that when the opportunity arose.

Inside the Witwicky dwelling, their incandescent illumination devices slowly darkened one by one until it was completely dark inside. Though its occupants slept, Bumblebee maintained on careful watch outside.

Morning brought a return to life on the quiet residential lane. Samuel Witwicky, accompanied by an older man whom Bumblebee took to be one of his genetic progenitors, exited the dwelling. Together they climbed into the green vehicle that sat in their driveway.

"So, you got that presentation thing today, don't you?" The older one asked as he powered up the family car.

"Yeah, gonna make an 'A' too."

The older man laughed as he set the car into gear. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely." The young man replied. "Got to."

The father laughed again as he started down the road. Though he followed at a discrete distance – at what he hoped was a discrete distance – Bumblebee was still able to follow the conversation.

"If you want that car, you're right; you do."

The glare that the young human shot the older one belied his short number of years. "I will, you'll see."

Bumblebee replayed those last words, _"…that car…"_

He did a quick linguistic and cultural search and was gratified by the results. It was a tribal custom – a coming of age ritual – that young people the age of Samuel Witwicky endured in they obtained their first personal vehicular transport. Which they euphemistically referred to as a car regardless of whether it fit the technical definition of the word. Parents of said youth often attached various requirements to allowing passage of that rite.

Organics always had fascinating rituals. This one, like most he had observed on other planets, made little logic.

But it did provide a possible opportunity to legitimately get within close physical proximity to the boy. Should the young male meet that last requirement, of course. Whatever an "A" happened to be.

… … …

Bumblebee waited, parked outside the school as the day wore on. Schools, he learned were a place adolescent humans went to learn the basic level of information and skills necessary to survive in their society. Considering that required human children an average of twelve of their years to complete, it was terribly inefficient. Either there was a lot to be covered, which Bumblebee had not found sufficient evidence to support, or humans matured at an incredibly slow rate that did not allow data input to occur at a more accelerated pace.

_Perhaps,_ he thought after a moment's consideration, _Like other things, they are trapped in their tribal mentality, it is a paradigm they have not bothered to question for generations even if they are capable of much more._

Much like the ritual of the "First Car," he reflected.

However, never before had Bumblebee encountered an organic species whose rituals included, as an integral part, a mechanical device. He wondered again how that mindset might affect the young Samuel Witwicky when he learned just what Bumblebee was. If the stakes weren't so high, it might have made Bumblebee snigger.

It was near the end of the school day, as Samuel Witwicky entered yet another room with his fellow students, this time located in a corner of the building close to where Bumblebee waited. He could tell by the change in the boy's body temperature and the increased respiratory and pulse rate that something was going on. Was he in trouble?

Bumblebee hesitated, and was glad he did, as the source of the young human's agitation was quickly made apparent.

He went to the front of the classroom, carrying an arm load of awkward equipment – all of which Bumblebee recognized from that EBay page.

After some initial unsettledness – during which time it seemed like Samuel Witwicky received some immature harassment from his fellow students, the young man started speaking. At first his words were unsteady, but then took on increasing speed. Not confidence, but speed.

"Alright, for my genealogy report I did it on my Great, Great Grandfather, a famous man; Archibald Witwicky. One of the first men to explore the Arctic Circle…"

He went on to detail roughly the same story Bumblebee had been able to uncover, but recaptured the Autobot's attention when he mentioned the gigantic Ice Man he thought he uncovered.

"Unfortunately, he ended up going blind and crazy in a psyc ward drawing these crazy symbols and things."

Bumblebee did not have to be able to see what the human was holding up – he had seen the symbols in his earlier investigation.

"Any way, these are some of the tools used by early seaman…" he began to hold up the different primitive instruments as his classmates sniggered occasionally. Eventually he got to the last piece. "And these are his glasses. I haven't got them appraised yet, but they've seen many cool things."

_You have no idea, Samuel Witwicky._ Bumblebee rumbled to himself and almost honked when the youth spoke again

"Its all for sale, by the way…"

_No, no, no, no! _But thankfully, there were no takers and the youth's teacher immediately called him to task and then the bell rang

"May be a pop quiz tomorrow, maybe not." The youth's teacher warned his hastily departing students. "Sleep in fear tonight."

Bumblebee had no idea what a "Pop quiz" might be, but if it was bad enough to instill fear in that many youth, it must be something horrible. Perhaps the others would arrive and he would be able to get his young charge out of whatever horrors the teacher had planned.

The boy's father drove up then, not even glancing in Bumblebee's direction, parking along the side of the road in front of the school before turning the engine of his vehicle off to wait.

"So, what do you think? Good right?" Samuel Witwicky was asking his teacher.

"I'd say a solid B minus."

The term confused Bumblebee, though he recognized it was not the A the youth had been hoping for.

"B minus?" the youth argued.

"You were hawking your grandfather's junk in my class."

"Wha.. kids like that kind… Oh! Hey," Samuel Witwicky took a breath and regained some dignity if no less pleading desperation. "Can you do me a favor, please? Look outside. Yea, the man in the green car. Let me tell you about a dream. A boy's dream and a father's promise to that boy. He said to him one day, ' son, you bring me two thousand dollars and three A's and I'll get you a car. I got the two thousand dollars and two As. Your 'B' minus and Psst, dream gone. Please…"

Something positive must have happened, because Samuel Witwicky's next words were more of a meaningless exclamation. Moments later the young human tore out the school doors and almost leapt into his father's vehicle.

"Got an 'A', its an 'A' minus, but its an 'A'" He was holding a piece of paper up for his father's inspection.

"Wait, wait, I cant see…"

The paper stilled in its ecstatic waving. "See, its an 'A'"

"Its an 'A'."

Sam's smile was unmistakable. "So, I'm good?"

"You're good."

"Yes!"

The father accelerated the car away from the curb and, after checking for oncoming traffic, Bumblebee pulled out and around to follow. They were passing a parking lot full of cars that looked virtually untouched.

"Son, I have a surprise for you." He pulled into the parking lot.

Bumblebee felt a moment of disappointment even as the young human let out a jubilant shout. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Yeah, I am" The older human laughed as he swung the car around to pull back onto the main street. "I'm not getting you a Porsche."

Bumblebee was pleased, even as Samuel Witwicky glared at his older relative. "What, you think that's funny?"

"Yeah, I think its funny."

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

The older man turned into a less than reputable looking used car lot. To one side, in a small fenced area an avian specimen that was as tall as a grown male human but apparently flightless looked around with unblinking eyes. Bumblebee marveled at it as he drove past the main entrance that the humans had used. Earth was a veritable treasure trove of diverse organic specimens. Perhaps, once they found the AllSpark he could take some time to examine this planet more closely before returning with the others to Cybertron.

Finding a side entrance, Bumblebee hesitated a moment as father and son bickered even more, though now they were standing in front of two relics of recent automobile history.

This did offer the best option for getting the human to let him stay close – a good thing for a Guardian to do. Yet in doing so, he would have to play the role of a human's rather mundane mode of vehicular transport. He had never allowed an organic organism to ride inside any of his previous alt-forms, even the ones designed for organics to operate. To do so would be… unnatural.

But Optimus Prime had given him a job to do and Bumblebee was known for his dedication to duty and willingness to do what it took to get the job done. He would do what needed to be done, the others were counting on him. All of their friends and colleagues scattered throughout the galaxy were also depending on the successfully recovery of the AllSpark.

And this young human might be the best way to do that.

So he would protect the human no matter the cost in terms of personal dignity.

Revving his engine, Bumblebee entered the parking lot, found an empty spot and shut down his engine. Just in time to see Samuel Witwicky, the lot manager's arm wrapped around his shoulders stepping around the main office. The older Witwicky trailed behind them.

"Here in this lot is every amount of car a man might want or need." The man waved his arm broadly.

They were walking towards Bumblebee, who only now was considering exactly how he might ensure that the young human chose him over all the other vehicles available to him.

"Lemme tell you something, Sam. A driver doesn't choose his car, car chooses its driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine."

That did not sound possible to Bumblebee. The machines on this world were not even living, let alone sentient enough to choose anything. But the boy's father was nodding understandably. Well, if the humans believed that, even if it was a factual impossibility, he would take advantage of the situation. After all, he _had_ chosen his 'driver.'

As they approached his position, Bumblebee scanned Samuel Witwicky, did a few quick calculations and then discretely adjusted his interior to match the boy's measurements.

The large dark-skinned man was still speaking as he walked past Bumblebee, but Samuel Witwicky stopped and stared at him. Bumblebee waited what seemed an agonizing few seconds wishing he could better read human body language. That was something he was going to have to study more closely, he decided, especially since he was now a Human's Guardian.

"At least this one has racing stripes."

The talkative man turned and put his beefy hands on Bumblebee's aft. The touch was unexpected, almost making him honk. "Yeah, this one got racing stri… Hey! what's this? Manney!"

While Bumblebee was still trying to adjust to the hands on his aft, Samuel Witwicky pulled his driver side door open and slid into the seat. Instantly Bumblebee shut off sensory nodes to where the grown man was still hanging on to him while simultaneously yelling to one of his workers about how Bumblebee got onto his lot and focused entirely on the Witwicky youth.

He was tempted to simply shut his door and take the boy someplace safe until the others arrived. But he restrained the impulse, knowing it would not be fair to the young human. What was it Optimus had said? It seldom takes much to overwhelm Organics. The Autobot suspected being abducted by a sentient car would probably do just that, not to mention ruin any possibility the youth would learn to trust him. Besides, it would be an abridgement of the human's right to self determination as a sentient being. So he waited.

Cool almost clammy hands brushed over the steering wheel as his father closed the door.

"This feels nice." Samuel Witwicky said softly. He leaned back in the seat slightly. The whole sensation of having a soft-skinned almost pulpy-textured organic creature _inside_ him was a bit odd to Bumblebee, but was not as objectionable as he had worried it would be.

Not yet at any rate

"How much?" The older Witwicky asked.

The salesman ceased his endless tirade to pause thoughtfully, one hand dramatically stroking his chin. "Considering the semi-classic nature of the car, the slick wheels and the custom pain job…"

"But the paint's faded!" Sam objected, leaning over to look up out Bumblebee's passenger window.

"But it's custom."

"It's custom faded?"

"Well, it's your first car, I wouldn't expect you to understand." The salesman looked at Samuel Witwicky's father. "Five Thousand."

"Nope, sorry. Not paying over four thousand. For anything." The older man shook his head and Bumblebee would have drummed his fingers impatiently had he had any at the moment to drum.

The car salesman leaned inside the passenger side door. "Sorry kid, outta the car."

"But you said cars pick their drivers." Samuel Witwicky's hands clutched the steering wheel tighter, which Bumblebee took to be a good sign, if only he could convince the salesman to reduce his price.

"Yeah, well sometimes they choose a driver with a cheep father. Out the car." He slapped Bumblebee's door for emphasis. Bumblebee could sense Samuel Witwicky's disappointment as he slowly climbed out, one last, lingering look inside.

His father must have seen the same thing. "There is a Fiesta over there with racing stripes."

"No, I don't want a _Fiesta_ with racing stripes!"

Even as the boy said that, the salesman was climbing into the car immediately to Bumblebee's right – an ungainly looking thing of a pale, nondescript color. What were the humans thinking when they designed that one? "Now this one's a real beauty!"

The man's voice was really starting to grate on Bumblebees auditory sensors. Samuel Witwicky must have felt the same because the driver's door was closed with considerably more force than necessary. It did not damage Bumblebee in the least, but as the door closed, Bumblebee used the opportunity to swing the passenger door open – and directly into the side of the tiny vehicle the salesman was sitting in moving it several feet away from him.

All three humans yelped in surprise, telling Bumblebee that was not a common malfunction in even older decrepit automobiles. But it was too late to take it back. He did remember to leave that door open, figuring that if doors did not open on their own, they wouldn't close on their own either.

"Holy cow!" Samuel Witwicky's father exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

The salesman was quickly scrambling out the passenger window of the vehicle. "Nah, this ain't nothing. I'll get some sledge hammers and bang this thing right out." As an effort to get the human to stop talking, Bumblebee had failed. Miserably. "Hey, Manney, get your clown cousin and some sledge hammers and bang this stuff out, come bang it out!"

The oddly vibrating noise the man produced as he walked in front of Bumblebee did not seem natural – even for a human. "Now this one's my favorite, drove all the way from Alabamy…"

Bumblebee had had enough. If he allowed this to continue the Witwickys might be persuaded to buy a different vehicle, or be taken too far away for him to affect the outcome. An equitable expression of his feelings was found in a brief snippet of a timely transmission of some ancient video program.

It warbled out his radio, "Greater than man…"

He set off the anti-theft alarm his guise boasted as a cover for an ultrasonic, finely calibrated signal he transmitted that shattered the windows of every other car in the immediate vicinity on the lot, but nothing else.

All three humans ducked as showers of glass suddenly littered their world.

"What the…?" Samuel Witwicky stood slowly, his jaw slack. Then stared at Bumblebee in awe.

The salesman just stood there, finally shocked into silence, as he pivoted slowly to look around him. Finally, after he had turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, he looked back at Bumblebee and swayed slightly. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment and Bumblebee felt very satisfied with himself.

Especially when he turned to Samuel Witwicky and his father holding up a hand that trembled slightly. "Four thousand."

Samuel Witwicky nearly jumped, jabbing one fist in the air. "Yes! Dad, please?"

The older man smiled slightly, but looked back at Bumblebee. "You sure?"

"Absolutely!"

"Alright."

"Yes!" Samuel Witwicky seemed nearly too ecstatic for it to be healthy for him.

His father only smiled paternally. "You go on home, I'll finish here."

"Thank you Dad," Without another look at the still stunned salesman, the young man rushed back to Bumblebee and all but leapt inside.

"Don't you need the key son?" His father called after him.

"Nah, its still in the ignition." So he had caught that fact, Bumblebee began to hope the kid was reasonably intelligent.

So saying, he cranked the key and Bumblebee remembered to start his engine as expected. The boy shifted the gear lever and Bumblebee obligingly went backwards until a foot on the break peddle asked him to stop. So far so good, but he did not know how long he could keep this ruse up. Being manipulated in this manner by another being was... weird.

His estimate of the youth's intelligence was called into question when he attempted to pull out directly into traffic. Perhaps it was just inexperience. Whatever the cause, Bumblebee hesitated long enough for the approaching car to get out of the way before pulling into the line of traffic with an electronic grunt the boy could not hear.

"Yeah!" Samuel Witwicky floored the gas peddle and Bumblebee obligingly increased his speed, though not nearly as fast as he suspected the boy would have chosen to go.

Of all the things he might have to protect the human from, the Autobot had not anticipated having to protect him from himself. It was a good thing he had managed to get himself as the youth's 'ride.' He doubted the boy could avoid getting himself killed on his own.

A sharp wrench on the wheel told Bumblebee the youth wanted to turn right, so he did so.

This could get very trying – even for an Autobot with seemingly infinite patience like Optimus Prime. And Bumblebee was no where near that.

Bumblebee had to find a way to let this young human know who and what he was. And soon.

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><p>Please review. I want to know what you guys are thinking.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to everyone who is following this story, that encourages me to keep going with it. :) Hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer:  I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional... Did I mention that no money is being exchanged here at all?_

* * *

><p>Scorponok followed the ragged team of human insects as they scurried across the arid landscape and stumbled down sand dunes. Blackout wanted him to terminate these creatures quickly, but Scorponok was more inclined to follow and see what he could learn about them. Stupid as they were, they had managed to get away. Perhaps he could learn more about how these pests operated that would be beneficial at some point.<p>

Besides, he wanted to play with them first.

He sensed they had stopped moving so he paused, just below the sandy surface, and extended his sensors to observe more closely.

They were resting in the shade of a partially destroyed tank, completely oblivious to the possibility of pursuit.

"My momma, she had the gene you know?" One of them was saying. "And I got it too. That thing that attacked us… it ain't over yet."

"Well, why don't you use your magic voodoo powers to find us a way outta here?" Another one retorted as several of the other humans rolled their eyes.

_Why do they waste time on such inane conversation? _Scorponok wondered. But then they were insects, what else was to be expected? _They should listen to the crazy one._

One of the humans was looking into a device while the dark-skinned one gave his report. "… there was like an aura around it."

Scorponok ignored the sarcastic reply from one of the underlings and focused on what the one who was probably leader said. "We gotta get this to the Pentagon ASAP."

A quick search revealed the the Pentagon was their military headquarters. That was it. It was time to end this game. With an electronic gurgle of anticipation, Scorponok surged forward and upward.

The screaming his sudden emergence from the desert floor elicited was immensely enjoyable. They did not exactly scatter but they did start running. _Even more fun._ The sarcastic one made a delightful squishing sound when he speared it only to fling it lifelessly across the sand.

Scorponok cackled to himself as he buried himself in the sand again. _This is almost too easy._

They were headed towards the remnants of a primitive human settlement, where the local insects were living among already ruined buildings. More vermin to eradicate. Scorponok unlimbered his primary weapons and started firing them with glee.

It took several seconds for Scorponok to realize that the human's smaller size actually made them somewhat difficult to hit with energy weapons. No matter, he had all the time he wanted in this pathetic wasteland. The multitude of weak fire they dared to lob at him hardly qualified as an annoyance, so Scorponok slowed his own rate of fire down just enough to aim more carefully.

"You miserable blobs of flesh!" He hissed at the humans in Cybertronian, relishing the scream one of them made as parts of a wall collapsed on it. "You think you can defeat me?"

That was when the world around him exploded. White light momentarily overloaded his ocular sensors and the concussion was enough to rattle his processors and disrupt his balance. But as the smoke cleared, Scorponok screamed his rage in an electronic shriek that made humans grab at the ears in protest.

He started firing again, disregarding precision. Enough games. Scorponok wanted them dead. All of them.

His sensors registered the presences of a larger aircraft circling overhead, but in his battle rage he ignored it, focusing on the prey right in front of him. They would pay. He would wipe any hint of their existence from the surface of their sorry, pathetic little planet.

This time, when the world exploded, it _hurt._

_That is not possible!_ These were insects, nothing more than sacks of water and proteins. How could they possibly have the ability to damage him? But another lance of pain nearly severed his 'tail,' while another tore through his side.

Screeching, Scorponok did the only thing he could think of, finding himself suddenly vulnerable when he never should have been.

He dove into the sand again, scrambling to get away from the hail of bullets that were suddenly able to penetrate his armor.

The last few meters of his tail did not survive his emergency dive into the earth and he could feel it writhing on the desert surface as he quickly burrowed to safety. A part of him. Lost.

It was not until he was several hundred kilometers away from the site of the battle that Scorponok paused to consider what had happened. He had failed. The humans had escaped and he was injured.

Blackout would not be happy.

… … …

On the other side of the planet, Bumblebee waited outside the Witwicky dwelling, a building they ubiquitously called a 'house.' He was just outside the building itself while his young charge was inside puttering around in that upstairs room. His plan was to wait till dark and then send the signal to the others. Maybe he would get a chance to communicate with the human, maybe not. Maybe he would just let Optimus do that. Leadership was Prime's specialty, after all. That included diplomacy.

To his surprise, Samuel Witwicky suddenly came tearing out of the house – much like he had evacuated the school earlier that day.

"I do not like footprints on my grass." His father said tersely.

"There are no footprints on your grass." Sam objected, freezing in place. Bumblebee had to agree, a slight thermal trace where his feet had been, but that was already dissipating leaving no visible evidence of his passage. 'Grass' was a remarkably resilient footing substance, especially when utilized by humans and other smaller organics.

"That's why I built my path." The older Witwicky continued. "Why don't you go from my grass to my path."

"There are no… It's family grass dad."

"You'll understand when you own your own grass. Now get."

"Ieee." A few moments, and a puzzling exchange with his female creator about their dog, later the boy rounded the corner of the house and headed for Bumblebee and the Autobot prepared himself.

"Be home by eleven o'clock." The female called out. "And for goodness sakes, drive carefully."

"Yeah, okay."

"Eleven o'clock" His father reinforced the earlier command. "Seat belt on."

"Always." Even Bumblebee could tell he was almost ignoring them all together. Was the boy not even remotely concerned about his own safety? Could he not see that his parental units only cared for his wellbeing?

Bumblebee's door was pulled open as Samuel Witwicky settled behind the wheel once more. If that noise the youth made was any indication, Bumblebee thought the boy enjoyed being there. Would he enjoy it as much when he learned Bumblebee was much, much more than just a car?

This time they picked up another young male before heading in the direction of a good-sized body of water. Samuel Witwicky's guest had placed his feet on Bumblebee's dash, which the Autobot did his best to ignore, doubting he intended any insult by the action. Indeed, the blond-headed teen did not seem to think about much at all, let alone that he might be doing something inappropriate or insulting.

"Are you sure we're invited to this party?" that other male, a being going by the appellation Miles, asked.

"It's a lake; public property." Samuel Witwicky responded negligently. "Of course we're invited."

The young driver aimed Bumblebee at a parking spot parallel to the curb and Bumblebee obligingly settled into position with more precision than the youth had even attempted. Both humans disembarked and started walking toward said lake. He heard Samuel Witwicky exclaim quietly but with a touch of excited alarm. "Mikaela's here! I'm good?"

"You're good." His friend put a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Just don't do anything dumb, okay?"

The Blond-haired youth did not reply.

They were approaching a group of four other young humans, two males and two females, standing around a large sports utility vehicle. Despite the admonition of his friend, Miles immediately started to ascend a small tree. He got approximately twice his standing height before securing his legs over a convenient branch and promptly hanging upside down. In that position, his face hung at about the same height it would have were he standing on his own two feet. Perhaps he had a medical condition that periodically required an increase in blood flow to his cranium. Perhaps that explained why his processors appeared somewhat fragmented at times.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed. They were intercepted as they approached the tree by a rather large youth. "Hey, look who's here. Nice ride man."

Samuel Witwicky looked back at Bumblebee, his expression not one that Bumblebee recognized, but the boy did not respond.

"What are you doing here?" The same male demanded. It was definitely a challenge.

Curious Bumblebee looked on, completely ignored, though he was puzzled by the derisive nature of the bigger teen's compliment of his alt-mode.

Samuel Witwicky nodded to his inverted friend. "We're here to climb this tree."

"Yeah, it looks fun." The large youth looked back at his friends, then turned back to Bumblebee's charge, "Hey, I thought I recognized you. You tried out for the football team last year, didn't you?"

"Ah, no, no. That wasn't like a _real_ try out. No. I… I uh, was just researching a book I was writing. Yeah."

"Oh, what's the book called? Sucking at sports?" Definitely a challenge.

This must be some primitive hold-over of tribal territorial rivalries, Bumblebee realized as he watched, fascinated. How would Samuel Witwicky react? He was out-sized and out-numbered quiet considerably.

The young man in question laughed nervously. "No, no. Its about the link between football and brain damage." He must not have seen the change in his rival's expression. "No, your friends will love it. It's got pictures, pop-ups and little coloring areas and sections. Yeah."

The large youth started toward him, only to have one of the females step between them. "You know, stop."

Surprisingly, the large male backed down, "C'mon, I know a _real_ party. Lets dump this place."

The group of four obediently headed toward the large vehicle as Samuel Witwicky turned to his friend. A friend who had remained in his inverted position throughout the entire exchange. Bumblebee noted with some amused concern that the previously pale skin of the boy's face was now a bright crimson.

"Get out of the tree." Samuel Witwicky commanded.

"Why…?"

"You need to get out of the tree."

With a shrug, Miles executed a sort of twisting somersault and landed with springy ease, a large smile on his face. "You see, the dismount?"

"You look like an idiot." Sam leaned close to him. "We _both_ look like idiots right now."

"But chicks love…" Samuel Witwicky turned his back on the comment and headed back towards Bumblebee.

Bumblebee considered the expression on the young man's face, the way his shoulders slumped and assuming a parallelism of meaning in structural design and emotional expression, he felt pity for the human. Perhaps it was his imaginative subroutines running in overdrive, but it sure seemed like his young charge was not exactly equipped for that particular type of combat. Or any type of combat, actually.

Perhaps the boy even wished he did not have to participate at all. Too bad, Bumblebee could not tell him that that was the first step to moving beyond such tribal holdovers of less civilized society. That his aversion was an indication of increasing maturity.

The way Samuel Witwicky looked after one of the females however, it was clear he wanted the prize of said conflict, but just could not do it.

Such strange beings. So much potential and seeming intelligence, yet they remained focused on such narrow things.

But how narrow was it really? Bumblebee considered the question. Strange to him, of course, and seemingly illogical. But he knew that organic species required meiotic symbiosis in order to propagate their species. Perhaps such seemingly meaningless conflicts between the males of the species were a way to ensure continuation of their kind.

If this was how that genetic drive to ensure the next generation's emergence played out in sentient organics, it must be a tribal hold over. Surely there was a more civilized method.

Curious, he watched the female and the antagonistic male converse just outside the large vehicle, even as Samuel Witwicky leaned heavily against his driver-side door and his friend crawled through the passenger window to leave his feet dangling outside. Apparently his cognitive function was not aided by the temporary increase in cranial blood flow.

Neither youth saw the female, whose name must be Mikaela, wave dismissively at the male and start walking down the road. Bumblebee waited a moment, but neither gave any indication they saw her.

If this was a biologic imperative, Bumblebee wanted to help. He found an appropriate song on the airwaves and channeled it through his speakers.

"_Whose gonna drive her home, tonight?"_

Samuel Witwicky looked up, saw the girl and sighed. "I'm gonna drive her home tonight."

"Hey, man. Something wrong with your radio?" His friend asked, pulling his feet inside, staring at Bumblebee's radio controller.

But Samuel Witwicky did not respond to his friend. He was too busy yanking the door open and jumping into the driver's seat. "I'm going to give her a ride home."

"What? She's an evil jock's concubine. Let her walk."

"You don't understand. This is something I have to do."

Miles straightened. "What? That's a party foul."

"Wha… Whose rules?"

Bumblebee waited patiently, curious as to what was going on now inside his cab. Another adolescent confrontation?

"You know, Bros before ho's!" The other youth was almost whining. It was starting to grate on Bumblebee's audios, even more so than the car dealer had.

"What? No! You have to get out of my car."

The other young man must have seen that his friend was serious. "Okay, just put her in the back and I'll be quiet."

"No! I am _not_ putting her in the back seat. You need to get out of my car."

"You can't do this to me." More whining

Samuel Witwicky put a touch of pleading into his voice. "Please get out of my car right now."

Bumblebee was on the verge of assisting the other youth's egress, but the human finally complied. Once the passenger door was shut again, Samuel Witwicky gunned the accelerator.

Perfectly willing to hurry, Bumblebee jumped smoothly into motion. As expected, the young human wanted to slow as he approached the female. Effortlessly, Bumblebee matched the girl's pace perfectly.

Samuel Witwicky leaned over to peer up at her through the passenger window. "Hey, Mikaela, I hope I didn't get you stranded or anything."

She glanced down at him briefly but continued walking, not responding.

"The name's Sam. Sam Witwicky." Still no reply from the Female, though Bumblebee noted the shortening of his name. It must be a human thing, to shorten one's given appellation. It did simplify communication however.

_Don't give up yet. _ He thought at the youth.

He didn't, though his hands were shaking so violently, had Bumblebee not been managing the real driving, it was possible he might well have run over the female. Bumblebee kept their course steady and at the perfect pace. He could not tell that either human noticed.

"Hey, I was wondering if I could ride you home! Uh, _give_ you a ride home, I mean, in my _car._" The boy's heart rate was increasing and perspiration was breaking out on his face. Bumblebee ran another scan of him to make sure he was not getting sick.

Mikaela stopped walking, though it was another moment before she turned toward the car. Helpfully Bumblebee started opening the door just as Sam touched the handle.

She slid in, but did not look at her rescuer. "I can't believe I am here."

"Oh… you can duck down if you want to. It won't bother me." But Bumblebee suspected it would. Why did humans lie to each other, and about such silly things?

"Oh, no." She finally looked at him. "Not here, with you, but in this situation. It's the same situation I'm always in, you know. I guess I just have a weakness for hot guys with tight abs and big arms."

"Big arms?" Sam glanced down at his own substantially smaller muscles. That did not stop him from flexing his own arm. "Yeah, Got some new additions in the car. The disco ball there and the light. See, the light reflects off the disco ball."

Bumblebee's engine almost sputtered at the random comment.

Mikaela also looked at him with disbelief. Stymied once again, Sam seemed to deflate, "Yeah."

The silence must have been awkward for Mikaela too. She forced a smile. "So…ah… you new to school this year? This your first year?"

"No, no, no. We've been in the same school together since first grade."

"Oh," She forced another smile, trying again. "So, do we have any classes together?"

"Yeah, yeah. Math. Science. History. Language arts." He laughed as if the information was no big deal, but Bumblebee had the distinct impression it was.

"Sam!" She said brightly "Sam Willicky"

"Wit-wick-y" Sam sounded his name out slowly.

Mikaela was smiling now. "Yeah, with the famous grandfather."

"Yeah, yeah."

It was a ridiculous conversation as far as Bumblebee was concerned. And definitely off topic. Deciding that the young humans obviously needed help, Bumblebee considered the possibilities. It might also help to prepare the youth to accept the fact that his 'car' was actually something quite different. And helping him get past _this_ diversion might make it easier for him to focus on the issue at hand when the others arrived.

They were cresting a hill with a truck rest stop at its apex. With a sputter, Bumblebee killed his engine, which elicited a startled, "What? No, no, no, no," from the young man in the driver's seat.

As he headed for the rest stop, he found an appropriate song on the airwaves – something that should get the youth's minds back to the task at hand.

The effort was not appreciated, however, because as Bumblebee rolled to a stop at the perfect spot to view the impending sunset, Sam was simultaneously apologizing to his guest and frantically trying to figure out what was going on.

"Sorry, it's a new car, you know, just trying to work out the kinks. This isn't on purpose okay."

"Of course not." Bumblebee was no expert, but the female seemed annoyed. No, irritated.

Sam was frantic now and Bumblebee reasoned that maybe the song was not to his liking and switched stations even as Sam continued to babble, "I'm, I'm a friend of yours, friends don't do this – romantic friends maybe, but I'm not that type of friend. I, I mean I could be, but…"

She opened the door speaking irritably. "Just pop the hood."

It was when Sam started violently hitting the radio, "Stop, stop, stop it!" that Bumblebee realized his attempts to help might have backfired in his ignorance of all the particulars of human society.

He should have known better. These were sentient beings, after all, not mindless animals. Despite any occasional evidence to the contrary. This was strangely... humiliating.

Rebuked, he let the music die and Sam jumped out, forgetting to do as Mikaela had asked. Hoping to redeem himself, Bumblebee did so for him. But neither human noticed the discrepancy.

Bumblebee did not quite understand Sam's silent look of shock, nor Mikaela's softly spoken "wow," as they peered under his hood. Mechanically, he knew his reproduction engine was a perfect copy – in appearance at least – of the original.

Mikaela looked from the engine block to Sam. "Nice headers. High rise double-pump carburetor… that's impressive, Sam."

"Double pump?" Sam winced slightly.

"It squirts the fuel in so you can go faster." She explained patiently.

"I like to go faster." His eyes were on her midriff rather than Bumblebee's engine. That was progress.

But she was ignoring him again. "Your distributer cap is a little loose, though." She reached over to tighten the offending piece, completely unaware it had been intentionally loosened as they talked.

Making up for his earlier blunder was worth the indignity of his current situation, so Bumblebee waited patiently.

"Wow, I never would have pegged you for mechanical."

She was still fiddling under Bumblebee's hood. "My dad's a real grease monkey. I could take this all apart, clean it and put it back together." She gave a little shrug that suggested it could probably be done in her sleep.

Bumblebee desperately hoped she would not try and would have gulped at the possibility had he been able at the moment. As it was, he shuddered slightly on his shocks. Thankfully, neither noticed and Mikaela stepped back to examine with pleasure the engine before her. Then she glanced at Sam. "I don't advertise it, though. Guys don't like it when women know more about cars then they do. Especially Trent."

"I don't mind females working on my engine" Sam stammered slightly. "I, I prefer it actually."

It was not the brightest choice of words, Bumblebee could tell by the way Mikaela bit her lower lip. "Why don't you fire it up for me?"

"Right." Sam jumped to obey.

_Interesting_ Bumblebee thought. This was the second time he had observed the males of this species obey a female. Was it a human thing, or merely a local tribal hierarchical trait?

"Look, I was wondering, if Trent is such a jerk" Sam leaned through the window and turned the key – which Bumblebee had no intention of allowing to work just yet. "Why do you hang out with him?"

Mikaela did not answer immediately, as she rested her forehead on her hands. It might not have been the wisest question in terms of trying to impress the female, but Bumblebee was impressed. It was probably the first question he had asked out of genuine curiosity without an ulterior motive.

The female's reaction however, was not entirely unexpected. Mikaela shook her head, moving to reach into the passenger seat to grab her purse. "You know what, I'm just going to walk."

Sam just stared at her for a moment. "Walking is…healthy. I guess."

Bumblebee thought he had given up, but the inbred, youthful hormone enhanced resiliency sprang to the fore and he hurriedly pushed the hood down and sprang into the driver's seat.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. You gotta start for me now. You gotta work. Please start, please, please, please." He frantically cranked the ignition. Surprised at the youth's persistence, Bumblebee complied, choosing an appropriate song to play.

"_Baby, come back…"_

Throwing the gear into reverse, Sam gunned the engine. Once again, only Bumblebee's gentle override of the youth's enthusiasm kept Mikaela from being run down.

Even more surprising for the Autobot was the knowing grin on Mikaela's lips as she turned and climbed back in. The resulting conversation they shared as Bumblebee followed the directions to get to her house – even though he had already looked up her address and knew the way – was much more relaxed. Relaxed enough that he did not feel the need to attempt any additional interventions.

Not that his initial attempts had helped. He might leave this little escapade out of his official report to Optimus.

There was definitely more to these humans than met the eye, even if it was just in their adolescent social rituals.

As he pulled to a stop outside Mikaela's house, which was considerably smaller and of even less substantial construction than Sam's, she looked over at the young male. "Thanks, Sam. That was nice."

"You're welcome."

She started to open the door, then paused. "You… you think I'm shallow?"

"Shallow?" The word was spoken with genuine shock, but then he seemed to struggle for a reply. "No, no. I think… there is definitely… more…to you than meets…the eye... Yeah."

She nodded, her expression remaining enigmatic. "Thanks again, Sam. See you at school."

"See ya." Sam watched her until she disappeared into the building with a final wave.

Sam turned back to the steering wheel, brushing it with trembling hands and Bumblebee waited for what he would do next. "Oh, I love my car!"

If Bumblebee had required continuous intake of the available planetary atmosphere, he would have choked. As it was, he sucked air through his vents. Even after all that had happened, the young human still only thought of him as nothing more than a car! Apparently he was not even considering other possibilities. Very well. The indirect approach clearly did not work.

Bumblebee would have to do something about that. Tonight.

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><p><em> I know the dialogue is not 100% movieverse, but I started thinking... disclaimer or not, I really don't want to go there. It gets the idea across, I think. Anyways, please review.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentiona_l.

_I have to admit, this part was fun to write. I don't know if there is any justification for some of Bumblebee's motivations, but it was fun and it made sense to me. If it doesn't fit with the broader Transformer universe, just consider it a little AU. Enjoy..._

* * *

><p>As the Witwickys settled down to sleep for the night, Bumblebee contemplated his options. He had completed all aspects of his assignment except for two. He had not prepared Sam to meet the others. And it was time to send that signal. He could do so from exactly where he was, without any of the humans being any wiser to it. But he wondered if there was a way he could do so that would also fulfill that last element of his mission at the same time.<p>

He could tell Sam was not completely asleep yet, it was time to act.

Bumblebee started his engine, not the quiet purr he could have done if stealth were is aim, but with a much louder roar than was necessary. Sure enough, Sam shot almost straight out of bed. Bumblebee did not think that human anatomical confirmation was conducive to that amount of vertical acceleration from a horizontal position. They were just full of surprises.

He waited until the youth was vaulting down the stairs, yelling as he went, before he pulled out of the driveway.

Sam snagged a very flimsy looking device consisting of two hollow metal tubes and two large, very skinny wheels, a simple wedge-shaped seat and a single bar steering mechanism. The strange device in hand, he started running after Bumblebee, swinging a leg over the seat in midstride. Bumblebee did some quick calculations to determine how fast the youth could go and then accelerated to a pace that would hopefully keep him far enough in front that Sam would not catch him, while staying close enough to encourage further pursuit. He could always adjust his speed as needed.

Sam was steering one handed, his hand-held wireless communication equipment held by the other hand, peddling rapidly. But he was unable to catch Bumblebee. Furthermore, he seemed almost heedless of where Bumblebee was leading him. So much the better, for he might not have continued to follow had he known.

He had chosen his destination carefully. A mostly abandoned industrial train yard backed up against a scrap yard. He busted through the simple chain holding the gate closed and accelerated past a train that was slowly moving along the track. Sam got caught behind the train, but followed closely after it passed. Bumblebee tracked his progress as he walked closer, behind a pile of scrap metal. When the boy was close enough that Bumblebee was sure the youth could clearly see him, he transformed. Not changing back into his protoform, but rather into the bipedal form dictated by his current altered guise of the yellow camaro.

Pretending to ignore the boy, who had quickly ducked down behind that junk pile, he sent a signal, choosing to use a transmission form that would be visible to the human as a beam of light.

"_Reporting.__"_ He sent to his leader. _"__The __coordinates for landing __are __my __current __location.__"_

Optimus' reply was nearly instantaneous. _/We __are __twenty-__four __earth __hours __away./_

_/You __chose __an __interesting __mode __of __communication./_ Ironhide interjected. _/What __is __the __reason?/_

"_The human with the glasses. His name is Samuel James Witwicky. It is for his benefit."_

There was a brief silence. _/He __understands __what __you __say __to __us?/_

"_Negative.__"_ Bumblebee hastened to clarify_.__ "__He __sees __only __light. __I __have __tried __multiple __ways __of __communicating. __A __direct __approach __seemed __best __after __the __others __failed.__"_

_/How __can __that __be? __Organic __beings __do __not __normally __have __much __to __do __with __robotic __organisms./_ Ratchet inquired

"_Perhaps __it __is __the __guise __I __have __affected.__"_ Bumblebee kept track of the young human_.__ "__They __have __a __great __dependence __on __wheeled __mechanical __transport __and __it __is __as __one __of __these __vehicles __I __have __been __able __to __get __close __enough __to __be __an __effective __guard.__"_

_/Seems __like __a __inconvenience __ta__' __me./_ Jazz offered.

_/With __the __benefit __that __our __true __natures __would __never __even __be __suspected./ _Optimus sounded thoughtful. _/Are __the __humans __able __to __process __our __arrival __without __substantial __damage __to __their __biologic __nervous __systems, __Bumblebee?/_

"_Unknown.__"_ Bumblebee answered immediately, letting some of the befuddlement he felt at trying to make sense of these biologics through to his colleagues. _"__Some __more __than __others, __I __think. __But __they __are __complex __and, __like __all __organics, __not __always __logical __in __their __reasoning. __They __are __capable __of __handling __much, __it __seems, __but __if __their __systems __are __taxed __too __strongly __it __could __lead __to __much __damage __on __a __wide __scale. __Mass __panic.__"_

_/I __see./_ Optimus said after a moment. _/Then __it __is __a __wise __precaution __for __each __of __us __to __adopt __a __terrestrial __guise __once __we __have __landed, __to __avoid __such __an __unfortunate __outcome. __Also, __we __will __follow __Bumblebee__'__s __landing __modality __and __land __completely __before __transforming __out __of __our __cometary __forms./_

There were signaled consents from the other Autobots before Optimus addressed Bumblebee again. _/Remember, __we __cannot __force __his __cooperation. __It __would __be __unethical./_

The whole conversation took place in less than a minute, light wave communication being slower than the form of communication the others were utilizing. Bumblebee was about to respond when the sudden noise of barking dogs, followed closely by Sam's frantic cries, drew his attention.

He abandoned the light wave communication in favor of an almost instantaneous compressed data burst. **:**_**I **__**must **__**go, **__**he **__**needs **__**immediate **__**assistance.:**_

In a smooth motion, he was yellow camaro once again, racing for an abandoned building where Sam was standing on some metal barrels, attempting to ward off two angry canines.

Gunning his engine, Bumblebee burst through an already partially demolished garage door and swerved around Sam's position, sending the animals yelping away.

To Bumblebee's dismay, instead of being reassured, Sam seemed even more terrified.

"Okay, you want the car, here are the keys, take 'em." He tossed the keys down and leapt from the barrels, sprinting in the opposite direction.

No suitably appropriate radio broadcast was available to communicate his intentions and Bumblebee found himself at a loss on how to reassure the fleeing human. Had he misjudged? Had he overloaded Sam's stress compensatory mechanisms by revealing himself so openly?

It had not been Bumblebee's intention to cause harm, and he hoped he had not. Or was it that the boy was already in a flight or fight response so common among organic species because of his encounter with the dogs, that he simply reacted to Bumblebee's arrival in the building?

Bumblebee did not know, but knew he needed to find out – and do so before Optimus and the others arrived.

He thought it best not to push the matter at this point. Let the youth return to his home and sleep. He would try again in the morning, when Sam was well rested. He understood that sleep was necessary to proper organic processes, perhaps that would help reset his systems and allow him to deal with the stress of confronting Bumblebee now that he knew what the Autobot was.

Just as that decision was being made, he heard another vehicle approaching. Decepticon?

No, he heard other human voices. Though he could not be seen, he watched as two similarly uniformed men ordered Sam to put his hands on his head.

"No,no,no, the guy's inside." He pointed toward the building Bumblebee still occupied.

"Put your hands on your head, now!" After Sam complied, the police officer continued. "Now, put your head on the hood."

Sam hesitated for a moment, then slumped forward, realizing he had no choice. Bumblebee would have helped him, had he called out for assistance, but apparently the youth either did not consider than an option, or he was still terrified of Bumblebee. The sound of his scull impacting the police cruiser could not have been pleasant for the boy.

A quick reference search told Bumblebee this was what being "arrested" or "taken into custody" meant. From what Bumblebee could tell from the context of their discussion and the radio signals they were sending, the police assumed Sam had stolen him, or rather the car he was pretending to be. An irony that was not lost on the Autobot.

As inconvenient as it was, Sam was safe in the hands of his own people, for the moment. And, as his research indicated that youth, especially youth without a previous criminal history, were not generally held by police for very long. Surely all of this would work out before the others arrived.

He followed at a discrete distance as Sam was taken to police headquarters, careful not to be seen. Shortly after Sam was taken inside, his father arrived. Using carefully modulated auditory preceptors, Bumblebee was able to pick up the conversation.

Sam seemed much more in control of himself now – projecting frustrated patience. "I can't be any clearer than how crystal clear I am already being. It just stood up."

"It just stood up." The police officer was not convinced.

"here ya go. Fill 'er up, and no drippy, drippy." Another officer said. "So, what are rolling anyway? Goof balls? A little Wowy-sauce with the boys?"

"No, I'm not on any drugs." Sam objected

Bumblebee did an almost instantaneous search on 'drugs' and was amazed that any human would ingest a substance specifically designed to inhibit their sensory and cognitive functions and was much relieved Sam was intelligent enough to avoid such things. That increased the odds of his mission's success.

"What's that, fifty-cent?" The turn in the conversation snapped Bumblebee's attention back to the ongoing interrogation. "You eyeballing my piece? Make something happen, go ahead. I will bust you up."

Bumblebee tensed, was the man threatening Sam? It sounded like it. Bumblebee was trying to decide what to do when Sam's reply reached him.

Considering his current predicament, it might not have been the best thing to say. "Are you on drugs?"

Despite the questionable wisdom of the statement, Bumblebee had to give the kid credit for being a quick wit. Much like Jazz.

That comparison at first made Bumblebee's circuits go into momentary stasis, threatening to make his logic systems glitch, because it led to another realization.

Despite everything, despite the differences in their construction and form, Bumblebee was starting to _like_ Samuel Witwicky. Not just as an interesting curiosity he had been assigned to, but as an individual. _And_ he was beginning to hope that the human might eventually be able to return the feeling. Sam was much like a little sparkling. With a little shudder he started an emergency defrag of the associated systems. Just in case. After all, what was the likelihood that even and intelligent organic would be able to forma friendship with a mechanical lifeform.

The rather one-sided questioning continued for another half-hour before a much subdued Sam left the building with his father.

"You know, if you hadn't insisted on that story about your car being alive and everything – that would probably have been a little quicker." The older man told his offspring.

"It isn't a story, dad." Sam shook his head sounding frustrated and weary. "Anyway, it doesn't matter, its gone."

"Its alright, son. Has to happen to everyone at least once."

Sam cast an unreadable look at his father. "What? Buy a car that's actually some giant robot?"

"No," The older Witwicky slapped his son on the back. "Run afoul of the law. I was expecting a speeding ticket, but… hey, at least you weren't hurt. And it won't go on your record 'cause they're dropping the charges."

"Yeah, whoopee."

"Its just a car, Sam."

Sam stopped in his tracts. "Its not just a car, alright dad. Its my _first_ car, Okay? I didn't even get to have it for more than a day. I loved that… car. But now its… Never mind. Can we be going? Like now?"

"So, it wasn't a forty-year old virgin?" The older man's voice had turned teasing.

"Forty year wha…? No!" Sam caught himself. "I mean, who cares, right dad? Its, um, my first car."

"Right, son."

They both got into the green convertible that was the family car and drove off. Bumblebee pondered the conversation as he trailed them. Sam was nothing if not contradictory. He had clearly been terrified of seeing Bumblebee in his natural form, but he also wanted Bumblebee back.

But was he willing to accept Bumblebee for what he really was, or was he longing for only what he had appeared to be: a car? These organics and their mostly illogical reasoning processes. Sometimes it seemed impossible to completely understand them. Maybe that was why organics and mechanical life forms never coexisted well. Autobots did not like mysteries and organics were sometimes nothing but a collection of irreconcilable mysteries.

But then, humans seemed different than most the organic species Bumblebee had encountered. He had seen enough of them now to know that, for the most part, they were indeed intelligent.

He had to try to make contact one more time. And if seeing him in his natural form was too much for the human to handle at the moment, he would do so as a '76 Camaro. The boy knew the truth now, so Bumblebee did not see any harm in proceeding in the form the boy felt comfortable with.

It was, after all, the only polite way to proceed.

... ... ...

Frenzy waited with unusual patience – at least for him – curled into his alt-form of a CD player under the seat in the airplane. It had taken Barricade several hours to confirm that this was the aircraft they were looking for. 'Air Force One' they called it. A powerful sounding name, and the size of the vessel was impressive, but it was ridiculously un-armored. The blasted thing did not even have a single integrated weapon.

The data records indicated this was the aircraft reserved for transporting the puny insect's leader, but how important could the maggot be if he was not protected during transport?

A part of him thought about teaching the little fleshbags a lesson and pay this supposedly vaunted leader a visit. But Barricade had been clear. Get in, get the info and get out. So that was what he would do.

When his navigational systems alerted him that they were halfway to their intended destination, where Barricade had assured him he would be waiting for him, Frenzy scanned the male sitting on the seat above him. The creature was focused intently on a thin sheet of pressed cellulose pulp with inked lettering.

Curious as to what could hold the human's attention so completely, Frenzy transformed. Slowly, silently. Peeking over the insect's shoulder he briefly scanned the paper. It was supposedly a collection of data entries pertaining to events going on in the human's tribal territory. Useless.

Proximity sensors alerted him to duck down as another human passed. He was not seen. He knew that because there was no screaming. Little squishies always screamed.

Scuttling toward the lift that would take him to the sub level where he would have direct access to their hopelessly primitive computer, Frenzy continued to avoid discovery. It was ridiculously easy, really. These self-supposed intelligent creatures were so completely ignorant; they were not even considering the possibility that they had an intruder on board. _They__are__so__stupid!_ He had to work to keep himself from a derisive cackle.

The human female that stepped onto the elevator was an annoyance. One he would have dealt with if not for the necessity of maintaining their secrecy.

Unfortunately, the insect noticed his alt-form, so Frenzy endured the indignity of her squishy little insect fingers grabbing his armor. Then he was deposited on some crates. It was an annoyance, but at least he had been taken to his desired location. As soon as the woman stepped far enough away she would not detect his transformation, Frenzy was gone. But then he had to hide from her once again. Persistent little vermin.

Frenzy watched with surreal disgust as she actually picked something up off the floor and took a bite. Scans showed the morsel was made almost entirely of artificial sugar molecules. Obviously humans were not intelligent if they would ingest such nutritionally useless articles. And to pick it up off the floor like an animal. Disgusting.

With a barely audible click Frenzy moved deeper into the hold as soon as the annoying female was gone.

With absolutely no trouble, he found the computer access. Turning optics up and down the passage, finding no one to interfere, he stabbed a probe into the hardware and accessed the files.

It took little effort to find the data he was looking for and within a few milliseconds the information was flowing. He saw the records concerning the discovery of the AllSpark, then of Megatron. With a few of his neural circuits Frenzy delivered a little present into the insect's network. Barricade had written the coding himself. It was intended to ensure they would not be a problem in the future. Time delayed, the pathetic creatures would not even know what happened to them and it would show them just how inferior they truly were.

And what made it even better, was that the Autobots had no idea what as happening. This time Frenzy did let himself cackle, thrilling his ecstatic glee to anyone who might hear it.

Only to have the feed shut off.

Just like Blackout.

_Slag!_ He slammed his helm into the computer terminal. _No, __no, __no!_

How had the fleshies found out? No, how had they been able to cut him out of the network? No, they had not countered his hack, they had severed hard-lines to the wireless servers. But he knew as well as any Decepticon that the cause of failure was inconsequential.

Striving for control over the feelings of dark rage that were threatening to send him into a shooting spree, orders not withstanding, he quickly reviewed that last bit of information he had managed to hack. And he froze, for all the span of a half second.

He might not be able to get anything else out of this computer, or the military networks for that matter. But he did not think he would have to. He and Barricade could continue their mission from another source. A source that would not have the resources to stop them. A civilian.

Now he just had to get off the ship and rendezvous with Barricade.

_/Have __you __found __the __files?/ _Barricade asked him, sensing the feelings of muted satisfaction over their symbiot bond.

_/No, __but __I__…__/_ Metal bullets bounced off his armor and ricochet off the computer terminal.

Spinning around he fired at the humans who dared to shoot at him, his bladed weapons stabbing the insects, knocking them flat on their back. Neither moved again. Hopping closer to retrieve his weapons, Frenzy ducked again as more lead was fired at his helm.

"Slag you glitched vermin!" He snarled at them in Cybertronian and darted away.

They would pay for their impudence.

Those two died just as quickly as the first, but the small Decepticon heard the noise of many more rapidly approaching.

He folded himself into the well that held the plane's landing gear and blended in with the simplistic mechanism. There he waited. Above him the aircraft teemed with borderline panic tumult. But none of the mindless little maggots thought to look below the deck plating. None of them even knew the face of the threat they thought they were facing. Because the only ones who had seen that face were now dead.

Secluded in the compartment, the gentle rumble of the plane's primitive but no less sizable and grudgingly impressive engines hid Frenzy's contented chortle.

He had a name and a plan. And he did successfully upload the coding he had been given.

Barricade would be proud of him.

* * *

><p><em>It looks like updates will be a tad bit slower in coming for the foreseeable future. Not too slow, since a good deal of the story is already written and my focus is now on the editing phase. But work has picked up a little and I will be traveling near the end of the month. That's a good thing! Work is good. It means bills getting paid and food on the table!<em>

_I'll apologize now if I mess up Jazz's particular mode of talking. I'm not good at that type of dialogue, but I'll do my best. If anyone has suggestions for getting it more 'Jazz-like' let me know. _

_I have __appreciated __the __reviews __I__'__ve __received __so __far, __please __keep __them __coming. __I __do __try __to __respond __to __every __review __that __I __get._


	6. Chapter 6

_Once again, this was fun. This is the longest chapter I've posted yet, so I hope it's not too overwhelming, but there just did not seem to be a good place to break it and not end up with one really, really short chapter so... here you go. Enjoy. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional. Blah, blah, blah..._

* * *

><p>Bumblebee approached Sam's house quietly, searching for the youth within. He saw Sam was in the kitchen, alone in the dwelling, ingesting the biologic nutrients necessary to sustain his life. His small canine – a pet, the humans called such creatures – started to bark at his approach, but Sam only fussed at him.<p>

"Enough with the barking, Mojo, really. Its too early." He said as he reached into the free standing low temperature food storage device and withdrew a large polymer container filled with bovine mammary byproducts.

Truly, he did not understand how humans could survive, even to fulfil their unnaturally short life-span, when they were so dangerously unaware of their surroundings. Deciding it was as good a time as any to announce his presence, Bumblebee drove closer, onto the grass just outside the window near where Sam was standing and revved his engine.

Sam took one look and promptly dropped the container of milk, completely heedless of how it splattered its contents on the floor. Then he ducked down, but not before Bumblebee saw the look of renewed fear in his eyes. He had not thought that simply by showing up he would terrify the youth. Had he missed something in his evaluation of the boy's reaction at the police station last night?

Soon Sam was on the phone. A conversation which Bumblebee shamelessly hacked into. "Miles, Miles! My car stole its self, but now its back!"

The voice that came back sounded distinctly uninterested and rather distracted. The human's mode of vocal communication, while almost painfully slow, was far more expressive and intimate than the various forms of electronic transmissions available to an Autobot. "What are you talking about?"

"Satan's Camaro. In my drive way. It's stalking me!" Sam must have decided the conversation was useless, for he hung up and held the small dog closer as he looked around frantically.

Bumblebee revved his engine again, in what he hopped was a reassuring manner, as he would for a frightened sparkling. All it did however was spur the panicked youth into motion.

Sam put the dog down and bolted for the front door, grabbing another of those flimsy two wheeled contraptions – though this one was pink in color – and started running.

Bumblebee followed staying close behind the boy on the sidewalk, mimikicng how Sam had followed him the night before, wondering if this was some unusual cultural thing. Though he did not understand what the purpose would be. But he figured if he did not harm Sam, eventually the youth would tire and have to stop. Every now and then, Sam would glance back over his shoulder and Bumblebee could clearly see what looked to be fear. That was when Bumblebee realized the boy was genuinely terrified of him and thought he was running for his life.

That was not what he had wanted. Bumblebee had hopped that after what Sam had told his father the previous night, he would be happy. Not terrified.

Realizing that, Bumblebee retreated to the road, and gave the boy some space, though he stayed close enough to keep direct visual contact. One time, while looking back as Bumblebee stopped obediently at a red light, Sam missed a jagged crack in the cement of the sidewalk he was riding on. The front wheel of his bike struck it and stuck, sending him flying into the air to land on his back. Much to the startlement of a group of young women sitting at an adjacent café. Most giggled as Sam groaned, laying supine on the pavement. Except one. She looked confused.

"Wow, Sam. That was…awesome." Mikaela looked at him.

"Well, it felt awesome." He moaned as he slowly climbed to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

At any other time, Bumblebee suspected Sam would have been embarrassed or obsessed with trying to impress Mikaela, but at the moment, his terror overcame his teenage hormones and he quickly set about picking his bike up.

"No, no I'm not okay. Loosing my mind a little bit. Getting chased by my car right now. Gotta go."

He swung a leg over the seat and took up where he had left off, seemingly unaware that Bumblebee had stayed where he was until Sam was moving again.

Not exactly the action of a being intent of capturing another.

Even so, Bumblebee followed as Sam cut across the road into an abandoned car lot situated under an overpass. He did hear Mikaela tell her friends she would catch them later and then walk to what looked to the Autobot to be a mechanized version of the bicycle Sam was riding. At least it looked to be just about as fragile.

Bumblebee doubted Sam was aware that the female he had previously been enthralled with was that concerned about him. Interesting. So there were emotional states that could overwhelm his earlier preoccupation with pre-mating rituals.

Sam managed to duck behind a car, breathing hard. Bumblebee was about to stop and wait for him, determined to be as patient as necessary with the scared child, when sirens alerted him to the presence of a police vehicle. Was the young human in trouble _again_? His brief perusal of human laws when Sam had been arrested the night before had led him to the unmistakable conclusion that it was almost impossible for a human to do anything except breathe without breaking some law, some place. It did not seem like an effective way to organize a society, but then he was too new to this planet to make a fair assessment of its alien culture.

Bumblebee knew that without a driver however, he would draw attention, so he turned sharply to the left, away from Sam's hiding place. He was both relieved and alarmed when the police cruiser did not follow him. He did not want to deal with having to evade local law enforcers, but nor did he have time to wait for Sam to extract himself from jail again. He wondered if Opltimus would authorize an assisted 'jail-break,' as the humans would say.

Even as he drove in a large loop around and away from the humans, his scanners followed Sam.

The human boy approached the police vehicle with obvious relief – only to have the door opened suddenly in front of him, sending the bike out from underneath him. That did not seem right. Bumblebee began to have an uncomfortable feeling worm itself around his instinctive programming. He continued scanning his charge diligently even as he started to head back their direction.

Sam slowly picked himself off the ground. "Thank goodness you're here. This has been the worst day ever. See, I was followed here, on my mom's bike and…"

Then Bumblebee saw something he would not expect. The police cruiser surged forward, knocking Sam back to the ground. He yelled, scrambling backward, only to have the cruiser surge forward again. Something was definitely wrong.

Bumblebee picked up speed, scanning with more sensitive scanners, beginning to suspect what he desperately hoped was not happening.

"What…what do you want?" Sam managed to stammer.

It was then the Police vehicle began to transform from four wheeled Saleen cruiser to bipedal entity. Bumblebee fully realized just how wrong things were indeed going. How he had missed the Decepticon, he did not know and was only vaguely comforted by the knowledge that the Decepticon had been likewise unaware of who and what _he_ was. Because it was very unlikely any Decepticon would bypass the opportunity to engage an Autobot in combat.

"No, no, no!" Sam managed to scramble to his feet and run: the best option available to him.

Bumblebee was closing the distance between them as quickly as he could, but could not get there before the Decepticon, whom he now recognized as Barricade, swatted Sam like an insect.

He watched helplessly as Sam flew through the air to land on the windshield of an abandoned car. Instead of killing the youth, Barricade leaned over him, smashing a large metal fist into the concrete.

"Are you Ladiesman217?"

"I don't know what you're talking…"

"Are you Ladiesman217?" The fist smashed down again, the concussive force bouncing the vehicle Sam was still laying on.

"Y, yeah." Sam was cringing away from Barricade, almost like he was trying to make his molecules meld into the vehicle beneath him.

"Where is eBay item 527061? Where are the glasses!"

Sam had the wherewithal not to answer. Instead he scrambled up, over the car and jumped to the ground, barely ducking the blow Barricade aimed at him. At least the youth had the ability to think even when terrified. That was a rare enough trait among organic species.

Bumblebee was glad to see Sam was running in his direction. But it was probably more due to the fact that that was the most direct line away from Barricade rather than an indication of trust. Regardless, it would make Bumblebee's job that much easier.

Bumblebee pushed his terrestrial motor beyond any earthly made engine's limit and was almost there when another figure entered the fray.

The female, Mikaela Banes, was heading directly for Barricade's location, though it was doubtful she was aware of that fact. More likely, she was simply looking for Sam, whom she had indicated concern for earlier.

To his credit, Sam tackled her, knocking her from the moped.

"Sam, what is _wrong_ with you?" She demanded once she recovered, rolling onto her side.

"Okay." Sam likewise pushed himself into a sitting position. "See, there's a monster over there and he's coming this way."

"What?" Then Mikaela heard Barricade as he tossed an abandoned vehicle out of his way.

"You need to run. Run. Now!"

But Mikaela seemed frozen in her terror. As Bumblebee sped toward them, he took a couple of nanoseconds to be impressed by Sam's refusal to leave her to save himself. A surprisingly Autobot like behavior. He was able to swing past the two humans and spun into Barricades legs, sending him flying as Sam threw himself over Mikaela.

Barricade was stunned just enough by Bumblebee's assault that he was a moment in gathering himself. Taking advantage of that, Bumblebee swung back to the two humans and skidded to a stop, popping his passenger door open in invitation.

Sam was clearly frightened and Bumblebee wondered if he would accept the assistance. It did not help that, already afraid of Bumblebee, the human's next exposure to an autonomous robotic life form had been one that really _did_ want to harm him. Would he realize Bumblebee was helping him?

If he did, would it change his attitude?

Organics were known to cling to a viewpoint even when presented with sufficient evidence to the contrary and do so with irrational tenacity regardless of the facts. Especially if extreme emotions were involved. Like terror.

In the three seconds Sam stared at the open door without moving Bumblebee waited patiently. A trait Barricade had definitely not evidenced. Unfortunately, no timely musical transmissions offered themselves.

To Bumblebee's left, Barricade twitched, starting to recover form the surprise attack. He did not know how much longer he could wait.

Then, in a moment of decisiveness, Sam glanced past Bumblebee then turned back to Mikaela. "You got to get in the car."

"What…?"

"Get in, get in _now!_"

"I…I don't want to…" But he was already standing, dragging her toward Bumblebee.

It was a large step, Bumblebee knew, especially with all that had happened to him. He did not wait, however, as soon as both were safely inside, Bumblebee sped forward, shutting the door as he went.

"Oh, no, no, no,…. We're gonna die!" Mikaela was wailing.

"No, we're not, no we're not." Bumblebee was heartened to hear Sam reassure her. That was the confidence a youngster should have in a Guardian. "Trust me, he's a kick aaaaa…! We're gonna die!" Sam changed his assessment as Bumblebee broke through a nearby window and through an abandoned building to the industrial park on the other side. Bumblebee tried not to feel hurt, humans were organic and organics were fickle creatures.

The two Cybertronians parlayed in their terrestrial guises for several minutes and it soon became apparent to Bumblebee that he would not be able to loose Barricade this way.

Prime had instructed him to avoid outright combat, but he was beginning to think that would not be possible.

There was one more thing he could try.

Ignoring the frightened cries from the two humans he was carrying, Bumblebee did a crazy spin and accelerated away. He ducked into another portion of the industrial complex, backed up against a large metal building in between two shipping containers. He then powered down his engine and locked the two youths inside, not wanting to take the chance they would try to run on their own.

He hopped that by powering down he might be able to hide his true identity from Barricade. Sure enough the alien police vehicle came into the complex, slowly, like a fishing trowel, probing the area with scanners neither Sam nor Mikaela could detect. But Bumblebee could.

True to his prediction, Sam and Mikaela both attempted to unlock the doors.

"It's locked." Sam stated the obvious, then reached for the ignition. But Bumblebee refused to restart his engine, wishing he could explain his reason. "It won't start. At least we ditched the monster, right?"

Bumblebee wished he could tell them to be quiet, but he knew if he tried, Barricade would detect him immediately.

They both grew still as Barricade drove their visual field. He drove past their hiding place, then stopped.

"Time to start." Sam whispered.

This time, Bumblebee agreed. Obviously Barricade suspected them. As quietly as possible, he fired up the terrestrial engine. Barricade started backing up, so Bumblebee shifted into gear and shot forward, past him, aiming at an open space.

Once at a relatively safe distance he spun around to face Barricade head on, opening his passenger door as he did so, gently dumping Sam and Mikaela on the ground. In front of them now, relative to Barricade, he transformed back into his bipedal form.

He heard Sam and Mikaela gasp, but his attention was primarily on Barricade's onrushing form. Then the cruiser leapt into the air, transforming in mid-leap to slam into Bumblebee, knocking them both to the ground.

The first battle between Autobots and Decepticons on this new world that was teaming with life was on.

… … …

Frenzy ejected from Barricade as the larger Decepticon snarled at the upstart Autobot in Cybertronian. "You think you can beat me, Autobot scum?"

The gaudily colored soft-sparked weakling did not even respond.

Not until Frenzy went after the human male. The little symbiot enjoyed how the insect screamed and tried to escape. Fleshies always screamed.

_/Leave __the __human __alone!/ _The autobot transmitted forcefully to both Decepticons, though it was intended primarily for Barricade. Frenzy ignored him. _/Your __battle __is __with __me./_

"What's wrong? Glitch-mice got your vocalizer wires?" Barricade taunted, again in Cybertronian as he launched himself at the Autobot.

Frenzy focused on the human, ignoring the battle behind him, leaping toward the terrified creature. He succeeded in knocking the boy to the ground. Only to have him squirm out of the thin cloth covering his lower limbs. Once free he actually _kicked_ at Frenzy's helm.

Behind him, the Autobot had regained his feet and had counterattacked Barricade, but Frenzy was starting to get mad. Did this _insect_ not know he was facing a superior life form?

But the boy was cornered now, against a simple, if fragile metal link fence.

_Stupid __insect_. Frenzy cackled to himself.

He hesitated just long enough to watch with pleasure as the human realized he was trapped. The fear in the insect's eyes as he turned back to face Frenzy, the absolute terror and realization that he was looking at death, was almost a visceral delight for Frenzy. He took a nanosecond to savor the moment, dancing back and forth slightly on his feet, then leapt at the human again.

Only to have the creature manage to pry him off and throw him several meters away.

Throw him, like _he_ was the insect. That was _it._

Frenzy did not care if Barricade's orders were to take the human alive, he would not tolerate this _insolence_ a moment longer.

With a wordless yell, Frenzy attacked again, closing a vice-like pincer around the fragile, fleshy airway. The boy continued to struggle, so Frenzy popped him in the face with his helm.

Then another sound registered in Frenzy's auditory sensors. The female had returned. Then there was _pain._

With a screech, Frenzy let go of the boy, only to have the female descend on him again with that retched, buzzing blade that actually managed damage him. She kept hacking and hacking, faster than Frenzy could numb his sensors and then he felt his helm tumble free of the rest of his frame. Only the fact that he was a symbiot kept him from off lining with that injury.

The up-side was that at least he was no longer in pain.

He tried to shake off dazed processors only to hear that human brat's annoying voice. He did not listen to what the runt said, he did not care… then he was flying through the air.

_Slag!_

Then he felt nothing less than sheer agony, but it was through the Symbiot bond he shared with Barricade. _/No!/_

_/Finish __the __mission./_ Barricade commanded. He was seriously injured. _/Find __the __AllSpark. __Find __Lord __Megatron./_

Frenzy acknowledged the order, even as the larger Decepticon was forced into emergency stasis.

He would do exactly that. He would complete the mission. Then Barricade would be proud of him. The thought frantically. Clearly the Autobots knew about the boy, that meant _they_ would soon find the AllSpark. If he could follow them, he would find what he was looking for. He just had to find a way to make sure that sniveling little Autobot would not find out about him.

Then he would make the humans pay.

… … …

Bumblebee knew Frenzy had gone after the two humans, but in his battle with Barricade, he was not able to track what had happened. He could only hope the two had been able to deal with the diminutive Decepticon themselves. He scanned the area and headed in their direction, just in case he could lend assistance. He saw Mikaela's purse and the fabric articles formerly covering Sam's legs lying on the ground, but no biological evidence indicating physical injury to the youths. Movement attracted his attention and he looked up to see both young humans approaching him cautiously.

Mikaela was staying behind Sam, but the young male was still walking forward, looking up at Bumblebee with a look that – if Bumblebee read correctly – indicated a mix of awe, disbelief and fear.

"What are you doing?" Mikaela demanded, near panic evident in her voice, though she never took her eyes from Bumblebee.

Bumblebee halted his advance, thinking that might be part of her concern.

"I don't think he'll hurt us." Sam shook his head and Bumblebee perked up. He really had not expected the boy to evidence that much trust so quickly.

"What is it?" Mikaela seemed to find a measure of confidence in Sam's

"It think he's a Robot, but like some kind of super advanced Robot." He shook his head again. "Probably Japanese. Yeah, definitely Japanese."

Bumblebee chuckled to himself at that, his optics quirking upward, and took another step forward, to mirror Sam's but stopped when Mikaela recoiled again.

"Are you crazy?" She demanded, inhaling sharply.

"If he wanted to hurt us, he could have done so already." Sam was peering up at Bumblebee with wide, expressive eyes.

"And you speak _Robot_?" She demanded, glaring at him, then looked back up at Bumblebee. "Because, they like, just had a huge droid death match."

"I think he wants something from me." Sam edged closer to Bumblebee who was impressed with the youth's courage, especially given his recent experience with Barricade. Would it last?

"What?" Now Mikaela was incredulous

"The other one asked about my eBay page." Sam took another tentative step and Bumblebee was impressed again, that he would do so with the direct reference to Barricade's assault. Obviously that encounter was still on the young human's cognitive processes.

Mikaela's response was a bit less admiring. "You are the strangest boy I have ever met."

But Sam was ignoring her now, looking instead up at Bumblebee as he again stepped toward him. "Do you speak?" He asked directly.

Bumblebee was pleased to finally be addressed directly. This was the moment he had been waiting for – and dreading – since he arranged for Sam to 'purchase' him from that used car lot. He found a vaguely relevant audio stream and funneled it through his speakers. _"__XM Satellite _Radio.__"_ He switched to another station. _"__Brings __you __Columbia __Broadcasting __System...__"__

It was not the most straightforward response, definitely not as eloquent as he would have preferred, and he hoped the youth would understand.

Sam seemed puzzled then he brightened. "You… you speak through the radio?"

Bumblebee nodded.

"So what was that last night?" Bumblebee thought he detected a hint of challenge in the question, but found a couple of data streams that would apply. He strung them together.

"_Message __from __Starfleet__…"_ A female voice sounded.

"_Visitors __from __heaven __will __rain __down __like __fire!__" _ A blaring male voice followed.

"Visitors from heaven?" Now Mikaela stepped up next to her male friend, curiosity appearing to overcome her initial distress. "What? Are you like an alien or something?"

Bumblebee channeled a convenient announcer through his system. _"__You__'__re __wonderful, __wonderful._" Applause followed.

It must have been the right touch. Both youth relaxed slightly, and while stunned disbelief still hung about them, the shroud of fear started to dissipate

_/Bumblebee, __we __are __incoming./_ Optimus prime signaled him then .

Time for small talk was over. He knew it was a somewhat akward introduction both by human and Autobot standards. Nevertheless, Bumblebee hoped he had gained their trust as well as their cooperation. Bumblebee transformed back into his terrestrial mode at a speed he knew would let them see the details of the process and, as expected, they watched with awed fascination.

He swung his passenger door open and found another broadcast. _"__Any __more __questions __you __wanna __ask?__"_

They stared a moment. "I think he wants us to get in the car." Sam told Mikaela quietly.

"And go where?" She asked.

"I don't know." Sam looked at her. "But, fifty years from now, when you're looking back on your life, don't you wanna be able to say you had the courage to get in the car?"

She smiled slowly, then started toward Bumblebee, Sam right on her heels.

Mikaela slid into Bumblebee's back seat while Sam got into the front passenger's seat. They were excited, but there was still a hint of nervousness about them as well, like that excitement could turn to terror at any moment. He would have to proceed carefully. Bumblebee's first stop was where he had seen Mikaela's purse and Sam's clothing.

It was a risk letting them out, just in case they changed their minds and ran for it, but it might also help calm them to be assured that they had the freedom to leave, especially since he had already locked them in once that night. It was also a show of respect, one which he hoped they would recognize as such.

Much to Bumblebee's delight, both retrieved their lost articles and hurried back to him.

Careful to obey the prevailing speed limit, Bumblebee took them toward a government building located on the top of a bluff that was fenced and closed for renovation. It would probably be abandoned completely now that the sun was nearly set for the night. That was his plan.

However, there was one aspect of having the humans know about his true form that he had not anticipated. On the way, as they passed through a tunnel, both youth were staring at the steering wheel as it moved as if on its own. Neither ventured to touch it, that was progress.

"You know, he's a pretty good driver." Mikaela noted.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "He is."

"You know what I don't understand?" Mikaela asked Sam, seeming to forget they were _inside_ Bumblebee. "Why, if he is such an advanced robot and everything, does he transform back into this piece of crap camaro?"

Bumblebee screeched to a halt, opening his passenger door enough to indicate his passengers were being evicted. He thought the comment rude, neither seemed to care about what his alt-mode looked like before. But as he considered it a nanosecond longer, he had to reconsider. He had not realized his earthly appearance was so offensive to them. He had not realized that among humans older models lost respectability.

And he could not deny that the newer vehicles he shared the road with were far superior to the one he currently mimicked, which was the opposite in Cybertronian society. But then, they seemed to generally respect members of their own species who were older, so it was probably a cultural misunderstanding. At least that was what Bumblebee chose to believe.

Very well. He had seen an updated version of the camaro model he had adopted, and had actually become quite fond of, behind him in the flow of traffic. All those thoughts, and a plan, flashed through the yellow Autobot's processors in a matter of seconds.

Sam and Mikaela were still scrambling to the nearby curb.

"No, no, see." Sam was muttering as Bumblebee took off in the opposite direction from which he had been traveling. "Four thousand dollars just drove off. That car is _sensitive_."

Spying the other vehicle, Bumblebee rapidly transcanned it before U-turning in a maneuver no earthy vehicle could mimic and headed back for the two teenagers. Before he reached them, he was a spitting image of the newer vehicle, expect he was bright yellow, with the same black racing stripes he had before.

He revved his engine as he approached, causing both humans to turn toward him. The expression on their faces was priceless. He chuckled to himself, storing the image to memory.

"What?" Was all Sam could say as Bumblebee came to a more dignified halt this time. He opened the passenger door for Mikaela, then hurried to the driver's side. Bumblebee did not object, confident now that the young male would not attempt to 'drive' him against his will.

His prediction proved justified. Both youth just sat there as he took them to that spot he had calculated would provide the most impressive and informative vantage point for his officers' landing. His advanced ocular preceptors could pick up the tell-tale glow of the four cometary forms starting to enter the atmosphere, but doubted the humans could see them yet.

He quickly sent advice based on the latest bit of intel he had gathered. /_Mimic __only __newer __vehicular __forms./_ Then he remembered to send a status update as Mikaela and Sam stepped outside his cab._/Barricade __is __here. __He __is __dealt __with __for __the __moment. __The __boy __and __his __female __companion __are __fully __aware __of __our __existence __and __are __willing __to __cooperate __for __now./_

_/Good __work, __Bumblebee./_ Optimus' reply was almost immediate. _/Once __we __land, __bring __them __to __these __coordinates. __We __will __meet __you __there./_

A set of coordinates accompanied the transmission and Bumblebee quickly determined they were for a position in a low populated area of the city, near the industrial sector along the outskirts. Bumblebee was not surprised that his leader had already scanned the area and chosen an appropriate meeting place, even though he was still descending through the atmosphere. He was a Prime, after all.

It was obvious when the two humans could see the other Autobots' cometary forms for they both gasped, instinctively reaching for each other. Humans appeared to be a race that depended on physical touch with other living beings. They were standing in front of Bumblebee and, to their credit, neither gave any indication of extreme terror, though he doubted it was a sight either of them were used to.

They followed the four glowing contrails as they blazed overhead, turning as they raced toward the opposite horizon. However, all four 'meteors' plowed into the ground, each a precise distance from the others in a formation no natural phenomena could duplicate.

Sam stared after the landing Autobots and then looked at Bumblebee in question, his eyes now filled with what seemed to be a touch of excitement and wonder. He clearly made the connection with what had just happened and Bumblebee.

"Now, what?" He asked.

It was not trepidation, not exactly, though still a hint of some similar emotion.

Bumblebee swung both front doors open and revved his engine. But he would not hint at forcing them. This was too big; the stakes were too high. He did not want to risk loosing the delicate trust they had formed and in so doing loose their cooperation. They were about to face four of his colleagues, three of whom were taller than Bumblebee, who towered over them. That fact did not bother Bumblebee, but he imagined it could be very frightening for such a fragile and small species who had to know how easily a being of Bumblebee's size could extinguish their organic Spark. But, considering how well they had handled what they had just experienced, he was beginning to think they _would_ be able to handle it. Optimus had said organics could be surprisingly resilient in the past. Bumblebee was beginning to think that might be true of the humans.

Even so, when they came face to face with four more Autobots, something that would doubtless be terrifying for them – despite all attempts to mitigate that fear – he wanted it to be because they had _chosen_ to do so.

Even if they really did not know exactly what they were choosing to do, at this point in time.

They would at least be choosing to trust him.

Sam glanced at Mikaela, who looked at him. Neither said anything, at least not aloud, and Bumblebee was not aware of humans having the ability to communicate telepathically. But both began moving simultaneously, sliding back into their respective seats.

Engine revving happily, Bumblebee headed for the coordinates Optimus had sent him.

* * *

><p><em>I know, the battle scene was a little weak. In case you haven't noticed yet, writing 'Bot action is not exactly a strength of mine. Of course this scene was harder than some of the other battle scenes because the camera was so tight on the action it was hard to get a good idea of what exactly was going on. At least in detail. Oh well... More is coming, but until then, please review. <em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Alright, if you've seen the movie, then you know what's coming next. As before there is a little AU here. Just a little extra to flesh the situation out. Hope its not too mushy. OK, by far this is the longest chapter yet, so hang in there. It was just that, once again, no convenient place to break it made itself known. I'll try to make sure the other ones don't get quite as long... unless everyone prefers long chapters. If anyone has a preference, please let me know._

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional_.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime adjusted his course at the last moment. He had scanned the landing area upon his approach, ensuring that he would land in a field a safe distance from any sentient life. The others might be able to avoid harming the humans, but he was well aware that with his larger mass, landing in cometary mode near any of their structures risked more damage than he considered acceptable.<p>

The Autobot leader plowed into the ground and waited there for a moment to see if anyone had detected his presence. All that his sensors could identify was a few wild creatures running away as fast as possible. Though he was alone for the moment, Optimus knew his descent had been observed, it must have been. He only hoped he had not unduly frightened any of the locals.

If he waited too long however, he ran the risk of being discovered in his protoform. Until he knew more about this new planet, he did not want to risk that. Sending out another warning to his Autobots to avoid being seen in their native forms by the humans, Optimus scanned the area again. He was still alone.

With a slight hiss of escaping steam, he started the transformation from cometary form into protoform. Once complete, Optimus hurried away from the sight of his landing, knowing it was the logical place curious humans would start to look. He quickly scanned the surround area to confirm the other three members of his team were on the ground.

… … …

Ratchet scanned his landing site and made a minor course correction that would take him to a building uninhabited by any human. He had not intended to land in such a heavily populated area, but it was what it was. And it was far too late to choose another location without transforming out of cometary mode. He adjusted his angle of descent at exactly the right moment and skidded against the pavement just before crashing through the selected building to stab into the ground on the other side. The multiple impacts did not harm him, but they did serve the purpose of slowing his velocity sufficiently enough that he came to rest only a few meters past the empty building. For landing in such a heavily populated area, he was pleased to note he had harmed no one.

His landing had not gone unnoticed however, Ratchet realized. Before his exterior had even cooled sufficiently to allow transformation into his protoform, he could hear the wails of local alarms and emergency vehicles.

Just as he had the opportunity to change forms, he heard the indecipherable but clearly intelligent chatter of the local population. Humans, Bumblebee said they were called.

_These __humans __have __fast __response __times, __for __organics._ He thought as he simultaneously transformed into his protoform and accessed the planetary data net Bumblebee had reported, downloaded and processed what he needed to translate their language.

And he did so just in time to hear one of the humans from the quickly growing crowd on the other side of the structure that hid him from their view exclaim, "There's something near the tree, dude!"

Smoke and the mangled wreckage of the building still shielded Autobot from humans. Or so he thought. _Their __visual __perception __is __better __than __I __anticipated._ Ratchet rebuked himself for underestimating the humans, determined to do as detailed a scan on one as soon as possible so that he would have a better understanding of their functional abilities and limitations.

He quickly evaluated the vehicles in the area to find a guise before one of the unexpectedly perceptive organics could identify him, mindful of Optimus' exhortation. He wanted to avoid mass panic, well aware that such things spread rapidly among highly social organic species. Which these humans appeared to be.

_And __yet __they __flock __to __the __scene __of __a __potential __danger __as __if __it __were __some thing __on __display._ Ratchet thought as he found a vehicle that looked intriguing as well as functional and utilitarian. _Such __contradictions. __I __do __not __know __if __it __indicates __courage __or __lack __of __intelligence._

He observed them for a moment longer as he transformed into a bright greenish yellow hummer retrofitted to be an ambulance, and realized that the majority of the humans were actively trying to douse the fires and salvage the building from the damage his entry had caused.

_Damage __control __teams. __Now __I __understand. _ As repair was Ratchet's chosen profession, he was often called on to do the same thing. It was a task he had grown tired of as the eons of war had stretched on. But the young scout's reports were encouraging. Perhaps the end of the war was in view. Perhaps, in the near future, the only repairs he would have to do would be from brainless accidents, not those injuries inflicted in battle. It was hope, where before there had been none.

But he had spent enough time pondering such things. Shifting into the appropriate gear and turning on the lights that were arrayed across his roof, Ratchet looked for the closest road that would take him to the pre-arranged coordinates. None of the humans questioned his presence or his hasty departure. One uniformed human even waved the bystanders back to allow his easier passage.

…

It was not until it was too late to make a major course correction that Ironhide realized that the area he was heading towards was residential and that there were no empty buildings available to shield his landing. _It __was __not __my __fault_, Ironhide grouched to himself, _these __flimsy __human __structures __are __so __alien, __how __was __I __to __know __they __contained __life-forms __until __I __was __close __enough __to __detect __them?_ Even so, he knew that if he did nothing he would have many human deaths on his hands. That was unacceptable.

It left him with only one option. Optimus had been clear. Avoid directly causing harm to humans. Doing so was more important than maintaining their guise, even if the two might be closely linked at times.

Because no mere meteor would be capable of doing what he needed to do

He altered course enough to take him toward a structure with a relatively large, artificially constructed, liquid water containment area located nearby. Rotating, he cut on his propulsion system to slow his descent a sufficient amount to allow him to... well, plop into the pool. And with far less dignity than he would have preferred. But none of the structures were damaged and nor were any of their human occupants. _Not a bad piece of maneuvering for someone who hates flying._ The weapon's expert was proud of himself.

However, nothing less than half the water in the pool vaporized upon contact with his hot armor and in the few seconds that that same heat boiled it away. But that only cooled him sufficiently to transform almost immediately.

Ironhide accessed the primitive data stream to learn the human languages even as he stood.

And came face to face with an _extremely_ young, female version of the indigenous life forms.

The girl just stared at him, neither evidencing fear nor disbelief.

Not knowing what else to do, Ironhide climbed out of the pool, steam rolling off his body. _They __are __so __slagging __tiny, _Ironhide thought, even if this one was the equivalent of a human sparkling. He stepped over her, careful not to step _on_ her. She just stared, turning to follow him with her eyes.

Then she spoke. "Excuse me."

Ironhide turned back slightly at the polite inquiry, surprised to be directly addressed.

"Are you the Tooth-fairy?" She asked, cradling something in her hand, her head canted in a way Ironhide would never admit to anyone that he found rather endearing.

First contact with new species was not his strong suit. In fact, he was rather clumsy with it.

_/Optimus,/_ Ironhide sought counsel immediately. /_A __juvenile __speaks __to __me. __She __does __not __seem __afraid. __But __I __am __at __a __loss __how __to __respond. __What __is __a __tooth-__fairy?/_

Optimus's reply was almost instantaneous. /_Unknown. __But __humans __rarely __leave __their __juvenile __offspring __unattended __for __long. __You __are __advised __to __leave __the __area __quickly./_

As if to prove his leader's point, Ironhide detected movement within the dwelling.

Wishing he could converse with the child who was standing unafraid – such a rare thing among organics – Ironhide made a hasty yet stealthy departure. He had just stepped around a nearby stand of tall shrubs when a new voice erupted from the house. A voice that was not so calm.

"Honey, what are you doing out here alone?" A pause. "Oh my goodness! What happened to the pool?"

Ironhide ducked down behind the vegetation and looked for some suitable vehicle. Something told him these humans would not respond favorably if they saw him. It was not a first impression he wanted to make on a new planet. He sighed as he looked around for an appropriate alt-form. _Why me?_

Thankfully, one was nearby – parked in front of the very house he had landed at. Within seconds, an exact duplicate idled in the driveway next to it.

_/I __am __on __my __way./_ He reported _/I __do __not __believe __the __human __juvenile__'__s __biological __progenitors __are __aware __of __my __existence./_

_/Parents, __Ironhide. __They __are __called __Parents. __Sir./_ Bumblebee interjected almost cheekily.

_/Parents, __then./_ Ironhide grumbled back.

Curious to know what a tooth-fairy was, Ironhide accessed the so-called Internet once more. What he found made him chuckle and almost made his engine choke. His imaginative subroutines were having difficulty figuring out what similarities the young girl saw between him and a tiny lithe female with translucent wings. Interested to see what else these humans came up with, he did a very rapid perusal of the entirety of the video recordings available on the Internet. He found the ones dealing with a period of this continent's history called the Old West to be interesting, to say the least. They seemed to like their 'revolvers' as much as he did his cannons. Perhaps these humans did have some things in common with Cybertronians.

He wondered how such a cultural history could coexist with the mythos of the Tooth-fairy, however. An interesting species to say the least.

…

Meanwhile, Jazz had plowed into the exact center of Tranquility's football stadium, sending a fountain of carefully manicured grass into the air. Thankfully, there was no one in the stadium to see his landing even if it had been lit like a landing beacon. Completely unaware of the annoyance he had just caused the grounds keepers, Jazz assumed his protoform with admirable speed. He was pleased that of all the others besides Optimus, his landing would doubtless have the least impact on the humans.

Exiting the stadium by means of climbing over the stands, Jazz landed on he roof of a nearby car dealership.

The dealership was next door to the one Sam's father had teased his son with the previous day, though the Autobot had no way of knowing that.

Dropping to the ground in front of the showroom, Jazz considered the vehicles on display behind the glass, looking for one he could appropriate as his own alt-mode.

_Convenient,_ he thought, though he was mindful of Bumblebee's warning about such places. Thankfully, it was nighttime and there were no humans about who might want to purchase him. He shuddered slightly at the thought.

He saw one rather nimble and sleek looking vehicle on a rotating platform. Clearly its designers were proud of their efforts with the little sports car. It was the only explanation for how prominently it was displayed.

_An' __they __should __be._ Jazz took his time transcanning the gray Solstice. _This __one __is __quiet __aesthetically __pleasin'. E'en if it's rather primitive. I would'na' expected an organic race tah have such insight into artistic quality._

A moment later he transformed into an exact replica. A moment after that, he was speeding toward the rendezvous point with the others, remembering only as he neared the coordinates to download what he needed to understand the human's language. In doing so, he inadvertently learned about their music. _An' I wasn't sure I'd like it here. _

_… … …_

Satisfied that his colleagues were secure for the moment, Optimus turned to the task of securing his own terrestrial guise. One downside of choosing to land in a rather isolated area was the lack of vehicular traffic. He detected a road nearby and quietly made his way to it. Climbing a large bluff just adjacent to the road, he feared he would be seen. But he was high enough, he doubted many of the humans would see him. And if they did, his black protoform would blend in well with the night. It was the best he could do. Even so, he crouched in order to minimize his profile.

Several vehicles passed, but none of them would work with his considerably greater mass. He was beginning to doubt whether such a small race would even produce a vehicle large enough for him to mimic. Then a different sounding engine attracted his attention. He scanned the approaching vehicle, standing as his interest was piqued. It was gaudily painted blue with red flames. But the longer he considered it, the more began to like it. Powerful, yet non-confrontational in appearance. It was not a vehicle designed to wage war, but for work and labor.

And it was the only vehicle he had seen so far that he could mimic.

It suited. He liked it.

Evaluation and transcan happened in the passage of less than a handful of seconds. Before the semi had even passed him, Optimus was already transforming into a perfect copy of it, down to the microscopic and chemical properties of the paint.

He did not have to ask the others how they were doing, quick scans indicated they were already converging on the coordinates he had selected. Following his own orders, Optimus revved his alt-mode's sizeable engine and rolled toward the city. As he did so, Optimus accessed the plentiful data streams to learn about the culture he and the others suddenly found themselves immersed in. What he learned was fascinating, some of it was troubling, other parts were encouraging but all of it was educational.

As he turned into the city itself, he took a moment to appreciate the architecture. While unarguably simple, redundant and not as substantial or as esthetically pleasing as the buildings that comprised Cypertron's magnificent metropolises, it was a remarkable achievement for the race that did create it. And ample evidence of their intelligence. In reality, it was illogical to expect a soft-shelled, non metallic species to construct buildings that an Autobot would construct. Even so, the fact that their buildings were easily recognizable as such was an indication of possible similarities between their respective races. Bumblebee had reported other observations that reinforced that prospect. Optimus determined he would consider the issue more deeply and assigned several cognitive subroutines to the task.

Optimus turned down the road that would take him to the coordinates he had selected. His sensors detected that Bumblebee was already there and that the others were quickly approaching from the other direction. Ratchet had assumed the guise of one of the emergency vehicles that had responded to his landing site. Appropriate. Ironhide now appeared as a large black GMC Topkick, fitting, except there were no weapons mounted on it, which surprised Optimus. And Jazz… he now seemed to be nothing more than a flashy Solstice. The lithe little vehicle was a good match for the mech.

He turned his attention back to Bumblebee. Sure enough, two humans occupied Bumblebee's cabin. It must be an unusual sensation for the smaller Autobot and Optimus made a special note in the appropriate sub-file to commend Bumblebee for his dedication to duty.

Not that he expected anything less from the courageous scout.

He was still some distance away, but probably perceivable to the human's organic visual senses, when two figures emerged from within Bumblebee.

He could tell by their elevated heart rates and their expressions, which were in deed quiet expressive – more so than Cybertronian faces – that they both were more than a little scared. Therefore he was impressed when they actually moved to stand in front of Bumblebee as he approached. It indicated a level of trust, in Bumblebee at least, that he would not have expected in an organic organism, at least not this soon after a first encounter, and certainly not if their first experience was with Barricade.

It was obvious when they heard the others approach as they turned briefly. Oddly enough, they did not seem additionally concerned, though they must clearly realize they were out numbered. Optimus was further surprised when, as they looked back at him, they took a step away from Bumblebee.

Optimus slowed and then braked to a halt mere yards away from them.

He barely hesitated, flashing through all of the ways in which to proceed in less than a few nanoseconds of consideration. Bumblebee had said these two humans knew the truth and were willing to cooperate. Optimus saw no need to delay any further. With that he changed his shape, aware that both Sam and his female companion took a reflexive step backward. No more than that, however, even though Bumblebee had already moved away from them so that he could join the others in forming a circle around the two youths.

/_They __appear __to __be __on __the __verge __of __entering __temporary __mental __stasis./_ Ironhide noted with some concern. _/I __doubt __their __parental __units __will __be __pleased __if __they __go __offline __because __of __us. Research indicates human Creators can be fierce Guardians.__/_

_/Bumblebee __is __confident __they __will __be __able __to __handle __this/._ Optimus answered, slowly standing at his full height, stretching as metal plates slid into place. He was careful to keep the process slow so as not to startle the two humans.

_/They __should __be./_ Bumblebee confirmed, starting to transform himself.

Taking their cue from both Optimus and Bumblebee, the others also started to transform.

The two young humans pivoted around, watching all this unfold with uncontrolled amazement, their lower jaws slightly agape.

To their credit, neither seemed shaken any more than they already were, even after finding themselves surrounded by five mechanical life forms, the smallest of whom towered over them considerably. Nor had the two youth known any of them existed only a few hours previously, Optimus knew from Bumblebee. Biologic systems could either be remarkably resilient or stunningly fragile, Optimus reflected, pleased to see that humans seemed to be of the former type. At least these two humans.

Optimus lowered himself to one knee, resting one arm on his leg while placing the other on the ground. Even so, both humans still had to crane their necks to meet his gaze. Which they did, rather than fall on their faces as if confronting a deity. Another good sign. The Autobot considered both for a moment longer, comparing their respective anatomy to the data he had assimilated and then addressed himself to the male.

"Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?" He was careful to lower the volume of his vocalization so as not to frighten or damage their aural apparatus.

"They know your name." The female whispered.

Sam was clearly as taken aback as she was, therefore Optimus did not expect Sam to step _toward _himwhen he delivered his answer. Then he understood, as nervous as he was, the boy was attempting to shield the female. "Yes."

Optimus smiled. "Greetings. My name is Optimus Prime. We are Autonomous Robotic Organisms from the planet Cybertron."

"But you can call us Autobots, for short." Ratchet interjected.

"Autobots." Sam echoed quietly, glancing up at Ratchet.

Optimus considered the two humans, noted how their stress hormones were steadily increasing. "First, understand: all sentient life is important. We will not harm humans."

"Uh… that's good to hear. Um, thank you."

Optimus was not sure if Samuel believed him, but he at least was not running the opposite direction. Nor had either of them lapsed into the temporary cognitive stasis as Ironhide had feared.

Optimus decided to continue the introductions. "This is…" he hesitated only a nanosecond as he searched for an appropriate human equivalent for Jazz's role in his command. "My first lieutenant, designation, Jazz."

Both young humans followed his hand gesture and Jazz demonstrated both his unique agility and an Autobot's abilities by doing a spinning back flip and landing in the exact spot he had taken off from.

"Yo, dawgs, this looks like a cool place to kick it." Jazz chose to vocalize in the English dialect that appealed to his personality.

Clearly Sam and the female noticed the discrepancy. They glanced at each other then looked back at Optimus, almost as if they did not quite understand what Jazz had said. "How…How did he learn to speak like that?" Sam asked.

"We have learned to speak Earth's languages through the World Wide Web." Optimus supplied.

"Oh."

Optimus gestured again. "Ironhide, our weapons specialist."

Ironhide twirled his integrated cannons in an approximation of one of the humans that appeared quiet frequently in the historical documentaries available on the Internet. An interesting human who lived in a place called the 'Old West' who went by many aliases – indicating a sketchy character, akin to Decepticon, no doubt – but whose given name was John Wayne.

"Feeling lucky, punk?"

Optimus noted the humans' swallow. Apparently they did not catch the historical reference. "Easy, Ironhide" He rebuked the other Autobot verbally for their benefit.

Ironhide straightened, relaxing his stance. "I was just kidding, I just wanted to show them my cannons."

Optimus was about to question the propriety of his rather pitiable tone, but then saw both Sam and his companion smile, relaxing slightly and decided it had been the right touch. Ironhide was not known for subtlety, but he had read this situation correctly.

Both humans were looking at him again, so Optimus nodded toward Ratchet, using an applicable term from human vernacular. "Our medical specialist, Ratchet."

Ratchet had been studying the two humans almost giddy with the opportunity to study another intelligent species up close and now looked at Optimus, sounding almost puzzled. "The boy's pheromone levels suggest he wants to mate with the female."

Both young humans reacted to that in a way that, if Optimus understood their body language correctly, indicated considerable embarrassment.

_/Ratchet,/_ He corrected in a transmission frequency the humans could not detect. _/I __do __not __believe __it __is __appropriate __to __comment __on __such __matters __openly __with __the __humans. __I __believe __it __is __a __social __restriction __in __their __culture./_

Ratchet's reply expressed his contrition. _/Should __I __apologize?/_

Optimus considered them for a nanosecond longer. _/I __believe __the __best __course __is __to __discontinue __the __subject __matter __all __together./_ He replied even as he gestured to Bumblebee, standing as he did so.

"You already know your Guardian, Bumblebee."

Sam's expression was not one Optimus immediately recognized. It did not, however, seem to be a negative reaction.

"My Guardian?" He looked from Optimus to Bumblebee. "Bumblebee." He said as if testing the word. "You're my guardian, right?"

Optimus was about to reply for Bumblebee, knowing the smaller Autobot was unable to respond verbally when a voice poured out of him in a strangely lilting, almost chant-like cadence. A voice that was not his, even if it was oddly appropriate. In a way.

"_Check on the rep, yep, second to none."_

It had troubled Optimus for centuries that Bumblebee had been so irreparably damaged in their seemingly endless war, even if the other Autobot remained irrepressibly optimistic despite his suffering. Optimus tended to suffer whenever one of his mechs suffered. It was for that reason that he was so taken aback to hear an _audible_ transmission from the yellow scout, even if it wasn't in his own voice, that it took several nanoseconds for Optimus to process what had just transpired.

Ratchet must have been equally puzzled, for he stepped forward and aimed a diagnostic laser at Bumblebee's long non-operational vocal processor.

"His vocal processor was damaged in battle." He muttered by way of explanation to the two watching humans. "I haven't been able to repair it yet."

_/It__'__s __the __radio __from __my __alt-mode./_ Bumblebee transmitted to them as Ratchet's laser elicited the electronic version of a cough. /_It's __what __the __humans __use __to __access __a __good __portion __of __the __ambient __signal __traffic. __A __radio./_

The laser snapped off. /_My __apologies, __Bumblebee. __Ingenious __adaptation, __my __friend./_

_/Thank __you_./ It was clear the smaller Autobot was pleased with himself.

_/Yes,/_ Optimus concurred, feeling proud for his youngest team member. /_Very __creative./_

That entire conversation took place in less than two seconds and went completely unnoticed by the two humans, having taken place in a frequency they were ill-equipped to detect. As evidenced by the fact they were still in the process of turning back toward Optimus.

"Why are you here?" The female asked directly.

Optimus refocused his optical preceptors on her. "We are here looking for the AllSpark. And we must find it before Megatron."

"Mega-what?" Sam asked, his expression more serious.

Optimus hesitated for just a millisecond as he contemplated how much to tell this young human.

They needed his cooperation and, whether or not the boy completely understood it, he needed their protection now as much if not more than they needed his help. He scanned the boy again, detecting the same thing Bumblebee's transmitted scans had indicated. He did not completely understand it, but everything that made Optimus a Prime told him Samuel was important. Not just to their current mission, but to Cybertronians as a people as well. Perhaps in time, exactly how would be made clear. Even so, he did know that their fates were linked. That much was unavoidable.

In the end, Optimus decided it was the civilized thing to do to be as honest and forthright as possible. And nothing would be lost by doing so.

Reaching up, he adjusted his optic servos to generate a holographic display to aid his explanation.

Both humans sucked in a large lung full of the ambient gasses and stepped backward as he ground beneath them began to change. Optimus felt a wave of longing that a human would have labeled home-sickness as the image of Cybertron temporarily replaced the monochromatic street of earth. Metallic shapes rose into the air, spreading their elegant spindles in the Cybertronian equivalent of geologic formations and plantlike forms, each one a different hue of subtle color. Cybertronian buildings grew to their colossal height, though no one besides his intended audience could see them.

As various Autobot shapes started to move within the projection, Optimus began his explanation. "Cybertron was once a great empire. Peaceful and just. The AllSpark – also known as the Energon Cube – was the source of our race. Its power: the source of the Spark that gives each of us life. For millennia we lived together in harmony. But then we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. He wanted the Cube for himself and so started the war."

The pristine landscape around them changed. Smoke and fire replaced immaculate buildings, dead and dying Autobot and Decepticon bodies littered the area. Optimus continued. Had he been human, tears would have formed in his eyes. As it was, hints of the pain he carried seeped into his narration.

"The war ravaged our planet until it was consumed by death, and the AllSpark was lost into deep space." Optimus focused the projection on Megatron. He said nothing more, letting Megatron's actions speak for itself, having to divert a few circuits to preventing _more_ images from his memory files from intruding on the moment.

Megatron's image held up a much smaller Autobot with one hand then pierced his chest with the other fashioned into a hooked blade. In a shower of life fluid and electrical discharges, the Spark of Megatron's victim exploded.

Even though the being that was so callously murdered was as different from them as possible in the physical sense, both humans gasped in clear horror.

As painful as it was to watch, Optimus was relieved Sam and the female would react with empathy. It was not something he would have expected from any organic species. Additional evidence that their two peoples were more similar than initially met the optic.

"You…" Sam spoke then, not looking at the projection of the mangled body any longer, but up at Optimus. "You _saw_ this – what you just showed us – didn't you? They aren't just images, are they? But, like, recorded memories, or something aren't they?"

Optimus snapped off the projection impressed that an organic life form could comprehend such a thing. Perhaps it came from their close association with their own machines and computers, even if those devices were far from sentient. "That is correct, Sam Witwicky. That and other scenes like it fill many memory files for all of us."

"I can't imagine living with such memories." The female said softly, Sam shaking his head in agreement.

Bumblebee provided her name when queried and Optimus considered them both, more surprised than he had been in a very long time, even as Autobots measured time. Understanding – even of the limited information provided – and _compassion_. From an organic entity. It was a similar reaction every Autobot around the group shared at the moment.

"We do so, Mikaela Banes because we must." Optimus paused. "The AllSpark is the only thing that can rebuild our home world and replenish our race. Without it, Cybertron will remain a barren, ravaged wasteland, filled only with death. For that reason, we have been searching for it for several of your millennia.

"It must be tough. I can't imagine…. That much time. Wow." She was nearly whispering.

"I don't understand." Sam let his gaze rove around all of the Autobots. "What does this have to do with Earth? What does it have to do with… with me?"

Optimus looked back at the boy and slowly told him the story Bumblebee had been able to uncover and had transmitted to him. "Megatron followed the Cube to earth, many thousands of your years ago. But he crash-landed before he could retrieve it, somewhere near your Northern pole. Where he was discovered much later by Archibald Witwicky…"

"My Grandfather?" Sam interrupted, his tone somewhere between questioning and incredulous statement.

"Yes." Optimus confirmed. "It was a coincidence that would bind our fates together. He somehow activated Megatron's navigation system. The resulting photo-electric discharge permanently damaged his visual sensors, his eyes, but it also etched the possible coordinates to the Cube's location here on Earth into his glasses."

"There're other Decepticons on Earth an' they're also lookin' for tha AllSpark. An' their long-lost leader." Jazz added, adopting a speech patter more like his usual one.

Sam glanced at the smallest Autobot. "Decepticon? You mean like that monster that attacked me?"

"His name is Barricade." Optimus answered. "If he is here, there must be others. Obviously, they know of the glasses as well. Your life is in danger."

"Yeah. About that. How did you know about the glasses anyway?"

"eBay." Was Optimus's one-word reply.

"eBay." Sam echoed, but did not seem surprised. Rather he seemed more like he was ashamed he had not thought about that possibility on his own.

"If Megatron finds the Cube first, he will use its power to transform Earth's machines and build a new army." Ratchet leaned forward.

Optimus nodded firmly, carefully considering his next statement, well aware that this was the trickiest part. If Sam refused to help, it would be unethical to force further cooperation. Indeed it would be anathema to everything that they stood for as Autobots and which he was sworn and duty bound to protect as a Prime. True, while these two humans had evidenced sympathy and compassion for their situation, he knew that self-preservation was often the most powerful motivator for organic species. Definitely more powerful than coming to the aid of such a completely different and alien species that they had not even known existed before this night. And his brief research had evidenced that humans were not above fighting each other for differences among their own kind.

Optimus chose not to take a chance in appealing to that possibly fickle compassion.

It was not manipulation. No ethical programming was violated. Because what he chose to say was absolutely truthful. "You hold the key to Earth's survival, Sam Witwicky."

Sam swallowed, staring back up at him.

Mikaela spoke to her fellow human, though her eyes remained fastened on Optimus. "Please tell me you have those glasses."

Whatever the inner thought processes occurring inside Sam's cranium, he spoke slowly. "At home. Or they should be. I think."

"Will you help us?" Optimus asked the question at last.

Sam swallowed but nodded, a tad bit shakily, but a nod nonetheless.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus asked, hoping the other Autobot would not mind continuing to act as transportation for the humans, thinking it would be easiest on them to continue to interact with someone they already knew.

The bright yellow Autobot nodded enthusiastically almost as if he _wanted_ to do so. In fact, Bumblebee was growing quite fond of the young human he was charged with protecting. He transformed back into the camaro and swung both doors open.

With only a moment's hesitation, both humans hurried to climb inside. The other Autobots waited until the two youth were in motion before likewise collapsing into their new alt-modes. Together they rolled out, following Bumblebee to Sam's dwelling.

Optimus was starting to let himself hope that they might actually be able to accomplish their mission without the majority of humanity even becoming aware of their presence. That they might be able to do so without involving an innocent and truly fragile species to danger in a war that was not theirs. The end of the war might actually be at hand. They would, at last, be able to return life to their home world. It was a possibility Optimus had long ago all but given up hope of seeing in his life-span.

Perhaps it was this slowly rising tide of hopeful expectation that would lead to the unusual, and rather un-Primely, impatience that would nearly jeopardize the fragile trust the humans were granting them and therefore forfeit the mission itself. Perhaps. But then, Optimus would never know for sure, or even if there was anything could have done differently at that point to change the outcome. All he knew was that was when everything started to go wrong.

* * *

><p><em> I know I've been updating fairly quickly lately. However I have to travel out of town for a professional CE conference certification exam next week and I doubt I'll be able to update till I get back. Don't know that for sure, but I don't want to get anyone's hopes up Assuming all goes well, I should be back and updating by the first week of November._

_Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Please keep them coming._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey everyone, sorry for the delay in getting this update posted. Had computer issues as well as lots of intensive course work and traveling to do. Also, this scene was a lot harder to write than I thought it would have been. Big thanks to Sarrasi for giving me some ideas and helping me get past a little bit of a writers block. Hope ya'll enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional._

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><p>As the group of newly arrived Autobots followed Bumblebee to Sam's family dwelling, they all started trying to fill in the remaining blanks in their understanding of human culture. Bumblebee was answering questions as best he could, though when he did not know the answer, they were forced to remain in ignorance for the time being. The young scout was hesitant to ask his human charge, not knowing how such a blatant display of their lack of understanding would affect his willingness to help them.<p>

_/I __am __curious./_ Ironhide ventured after a moment, as they turned into the neighborhood. _/If __human __creator/caretakers __seldom __leave __their __juveniles __alone __for __an __extended __period __of __time, __how __is __it __that __Samuel __Witwicky __and __Mikaela __Banes __are __currently __unattended?/_

_/__'__Cause __they__'__re __with __Bumblebee./_ Jazz stated as if the answer was self-evident. _/He__'__s __all __tha __protection __they __need./_

Bumblebee chuckled slightly, noticing how his human passengers frowned as his frame trembled around them, and stilled. _/Actually, __most __human __parents __start __allowing __their __young __more __distance __as __they __grow. __Sam __and __Mikaela __are __what __they __call__ '__highschoolers__'__: __Almost __adult, __in __their __culture./_

_/Am __I __correct __to __assume __that __his __parental __units __are __unaware __of __our __existence?/_ Optimus queried.

_/Correct, __Prime./_ Bumblebee thought for a moment. _/Considering __Sam__'__s __initial __reaction__… __I __did __not __think __it __would __be __the __most __productive __course __of __action __to __reveal __my self __to __them./_

There was stunned silence from the other 'Bots for a long few seconds. Optimus was surprised at what his scout's words suggested.

_/They __were __frightened, __but __not __overwhelmingly __so./_ Ratchet stated thoughtfully. _/You __reported __that __they __were __willing __to __cooperate. __What __was __it __about __Samuel__'__s __initial __reaction __that __troubled __you?/_

They were nearing Sam's dwelling and Bumblebee led them past his street and down an alley way that ran just beyond their fence. It would hide them from his parents. The Sun-bright mech was slow to respond to the CMO's question.

Then he sighed, inexplicably feeling slightly embarrassed. _/He, __um__… __He __was __terrified. He, well, h__e __ran __away./_

As the others silently processed that confession, Bumblebee was surprised to feel a hand touch his dash. "Something wrong, Bumblebee?"

_How __can __he __tell?_ Bumblebee wondered even as he searched for a sound bite that could reassure the youth. He ended up having to string segments of several together. _"__Bossman__…__wants __to __know__…__what__'__s __up.__"_

The humans were silent for a moment, then seemed to accept the answer.

"Wait…" Sam asked suddenly, as Bumblebee turned down that alley street. "So you can talk to the others like over the radio or something?"

These teens were a lot quicker to catch on then Bumblebee would have assumed. It made him wonder again why they had to spend twelve whole years of their short lifespan in their schools. He settled for playing a clip of a crowd cheering.

_/If __he __ran, __why __is __he __now __cooperating?/_ Optimus asked as Bumblebee slowed to a stop.

Sam muttered something to Mikaela about watching them as he scrambled from Bumblebee's cab, noticeably more nervous now than he had been just moments before. But Bumblebee was framing his reply for his commander.

_/I __am __not __sure __exactly __what __his __thought __processes __were./_ Bumblebee confided, watching as Sam disappeared behind the wooden gate into his back yard. _/But __he __seemed __to __realize __I __protected __him __from __Barricade. __That __probably __had __a __lot __to __do __with __it./_

_/A __good __supposition./_ Optimus confirmed, though he was troubled by the implications of what Bumblebee just shared with him. It was very possible that they might not be able to depend on any other human assistance.

_/The __boy __is __arguing __with __someone __in side __his __dwelling./_ Ironhide interrupted Optimus' brooding. _/He __is __not __being __allowed __admittance./_

_/Yo, __man./_Jazz confirmed. _/I __think __he__'__s __in __trouble __with __his __father./_

Venting air through his vents, Optimus quickly scanned the area and realized his Weapons Specialist and First Lieutenant were right. He several considered possibilities within a few nanoseconds. They needed those glasses. It was wrong that Samuel should be punished for something that was beyond his control. It was part of his job as Prime to negotiate with alien species. Clearly he had a mandate to do _something._

Still not entirely sure what he was going to do, but refusing to come this close to getting his hands on those glasses to let the opportunity pass without at least _trying_ to do something to salvage the situation, he transformed.

_/Prime, __don__'__t__…__/_ Bumblebee started to warn Optimus.

But Sam's voice was becoming even more frantic, cutting the scout off. "The chores…. Oh, right. The trash cans…. I'll do the trash cans and, and I'll…"

Sam was babbling so great was his stress level. Not to mention his elevated heart and respiratory rate. Optimus had heard enough. He had to do something. Sam was willing to aid the Autobot cause, he could not, in good conscience let anything happen to him.

And they remained in need of those glasses.

He stepped over the fence, ignoring the way Bumblebee hastily changed form and hurried to the house ahead of him. Until he saw the scout block his path, crouching almost protectively behind his human charge, waving at Optimus to back off.

Optimus hesitated just long enough to see Sam glance at his Guardian. Sam's alarm indicators spiked and Bumblebee shook his helm, gesturing in a calming manner while looking over his shoulder at his leader and gesturing for silence, shaking his helm urgently again.

Sam turned back to his male parental unit and continued his borderline incomprehensible rambling, trying to shield the adult's view of Bumblebee with his own body.

It was when Bumblebee looked back at him, gesturing sharply, that Optimus understood the problem was that Sam was panicked with the idea that his creators would see them. _/Wait! __Don__'__t __let __the __human __adult __see __you, __sir./_

With a soft venting of air, Optimus realized Bumblebee was probably correct. If the adult humans panicked, it would likely be enough to ensure the glasses remained out of his possession. With a nod, the Autobot leader waited.

It took a few more moments, but the adult human finally retreated back into the building. Instead of following his creator, however, Sam turned to face Optimus as the rest of the Autobots were joining their leader in his yard.

Sam was wondering around their legs, holding his cranium as if in pain, his mouth working as if he was trying to speak but that his vocal processor had crashed.

_/Kid__'__s __panickin__'__./_ Jazz noted. _/Maybe __we __should __try __speakin__' __more __his __level. __Works __for __sparklin__'__s __after __all./_

Optimus considered the suggestion for a nanosecond then nodded, sending out a compressed transmission ordering his mechs to familiarize themselves with human adolescent speech patterns. And then spent only a few seconds doing so himself and then another couple of milliseconds to set up a subroutine designed to incorporate that research into his vocal processors when needed.

Meanwhile Sam was growing ever more frantic. "No, no, no." He actually ran between Optimus' legs. Either he took it for granted that they would not harm humans or in his terror he had lost sufficient reasoning ability to be able to see to his own safety. "This can't be happening. No, no, no…I told you to stay…

Optimus turned to follow the youth with his optics, concerned about the utter nonsense that was coming out of the boy's mouth. He felt, sort of, the tiny terracotta sculpture crumble beneath his pede.

He heard Sam's squeal at the same time he received Bumblebee's equally frantic transmission. _/Primus, __no__…__/_

His processors still caught up in his recent research efforts, he turned to offer his sincere apologies. He truly had not intended to cause damage to the human's property.

What came out, however, was less than dignified. "Oops, my bad."

His processor almost glitched. _That_ was what the adolescent translation subroutines did to his intended expression of remorse? Optimus was so taken aback at his own words that it took him a moment to refocus on the boy.

Sam was staring in horrified shock at the remnants of the clay sculpture. "Not the fountain…No! Why…"

Then something close to anger overcame the terror as he turned his expressive brown eyes up to Optimus' optics. "I told you to wait! Why couldn't you just wait? Stay… Just. Stay."

He was going to try again, but Sam was already running over to his female companion.

_/Optimus,/_ Ironhide looked worriedly at his Prime, concerned as much about this delay as his leader's unusual word usage, and in so doing failed to notice the miniscule organic creature that came darting out of the house. _/I __do __not __know __how __much __longer __we __can __remain __in __this __location __without __attracting __attention./_

_/Duh!/_ Optimus snapped. Optics widening, he snapped his comm. off before he could embarrass himself further. Bumblebee and Ironhide's snickers made his systems heat.

Hastily Optimus turned off the adolescent translation subroutine. Then, on second processing, he erased it all together. _/We __need __to __get __the __glasses __and __depart __with __all __possible __speed./_

That was much better.

Then that tiny organic creature released a stream of liquid waste products. Directly onto Ironhide's pede.

Instinctive programming immediately activated and he kicked the annoying creature away. Just far enough he could level his cannons at it without danger of taking out his own limbs.

_/Irohide, __don__'__t__…__/_ Bumblebee tried to warn, but was cut short. By Sam

Shocking all of the Autobots, Sam actually darted into the weapons specialist's line of fire. "No, no, no, no, no…"

Ironhide did not fire, surprised that Sam would put himself in such danger. _/Bumblebee, __you__'__ve __got __your __work __cut__out. __The __kid __has __no __common__sense__…__/_ "You have a rodent infestation. Mind if I terminate?"

"No!" Ironhide jerked back slightly at the emphatic response as the human scooped the creature up protectively. "It's not a rodent. This, this is Mojo. This is Mojo. He's a pet. A pet. He's a Chihuahua. We all _love_ Chihuahuas around here. Right?"

Ironhide's processors almost froze. Then he gestured with his cannons, wishing the human would put the creature down so he could finish it off. "It lubricated on my foot."

Sam stared up at him, uncomprehending for a couple of his heartbeats. Then he looked down at the dog. "You… you mean he peed on you? Bad, Mojo. Bad!"

_/Easy, __Irohide./_ Optimus reminded the clearly torqued off mech. _/We __need __him __to __calm __down./_

Irohide grunted. But an order was an order. He settled for something substantially less than what he wanted and growled at the offending parisite. "Bad Mojo!"

He turned away, mumbling, "Now my foot's gonna rust."

_/You __landed __in __a __swimming __pool./_Bumblebee was barely able to control his mirth now.

_/That __was __different./_ Ironhide snapped at the yellow mech.

_/If __you __say __so, __sir./_ Bumblebee's shoulder's were shaking.

_/Focus./_ Optimus interrupted as Sam quickly ran for his house, the dog, safely tucked under his arm. "Autobots, recon."

Bumblebee nodded, and crouched down. He would watch Sam's parents. He knew their behavior patterns the best and would have a better ability to accurately predict their behavior. Hopefully. They were human after all, and rather unpredictable humans at that.

Currently they were watching TV, though they were talking about Sam. Bumblebee listened to the conversation for a moment then reported to his boss. _/Sam__'__s __father __does __not __suspect __our __presence __yet./_

_/Samuel __seems __to __be __having __difficulty __finding __the __glasses./_ Ratchet reported.

_/Perhaps __tha __punk __needs __a __little__ '__elp./_ Jazz offered. _/There __don__'__t __seem __to __be __no __slaggin __order __to __that __place./_

_/Perhaps __he __needs __some __assistance./_ Optimus considered the situation briefly. Then inspiration struck. He looked down at Mikaela. She did not appear nearly as flustered as Sam at the moment. He knelt down closer to her height and she looked up at him, taking a tiny step back.

"Sam requires some assistance." He spoke softly, not wanting to frighten her further. "Would you go to his aid?"

She swallowed. "I… I can't just walk in there. His parents'll wonder what's going on. I mean, They won't let me just wonder around their house. They don't even know me."

Optimus glanced up at the open window to the chamber Sam was now searching. "I can lift you to that window. If you will let me." He offered her his hand.

The human female looked at his proffered hand. "You sure you won't like, accidentally crush me?" Her hand went to her mouth as if she could not believe what she had just said.

As short for time as they were, Optimus took a moment to smile reassuringly down at her. "I will not."

She thought for a moment longer then sighed. "Oh heck, why not?"

With that she clambered up to his palm. Without delay, Optimus lifted her up to the window.

_/It __might __not __be __a __good __idea __to __leave __those __two __together __unsupervised. __Not __when __we __need __them __to __hurry./_ Bumblebee warned. Then he transmitted what data he had gathered concerning human mating patterns.

Optimus acknowledged the information even as Sam dutifully helped Mikaela into the house. "We need those glasses. Time is short." He reminded the two youth, not wanting them to get any ideas about what they could do alone in the room together. "Please hurry."

Sam nodded and they divided the room between the two of them.

A minute passed. Still nothing. "We need those glasses." Optimus reminded the youth.

"I _know_." The boy insisted. "Now shut up and go hide."

Suddenly, Optimus sensed an unmistakable Decepticon signal. It was very faint, very weak. Probably not anywhere near, but if he could sense who ever it was, the Decepticon could probably sense them. His sense of urgency just doubled. But so did his need for caution.

_/Autobots, __transform. __Mask __your __signals. __Decepticon __signal __detected./_

Instantly all the Autobots transformed back into their alt-modes. Had they stopped to scan _inside_ Sam's room they would have realized that the miniscule Decepticon signal had originated from within as Frenzy – or what was left of him – emerged from Mikaela's purse to examine his surroundings.

Sam, however, darted to the window at the sudden silence. "What is this? This isn't hiding. This is my back yard, not a truck stop. Argh!"

Though he was holding onto his cranium again, the youth did return to his searching.

Then, as quickly as it had showed up on his sensors, the Decepticon signal was gone. Either it had moved back out of sensor range or had masked itself. Which ever it was, Optimus definitely realized they were on borrowed time. More so than before.

He transformed again, the others following suit. He moved back to the window.

"Hurry." He told Sam, urgency lending a harsher cut to his words than he usually employed. Especially with already frightened, neurologically delicate organic younglings.

"I need you to give me five minutes!" Sam snapped back, running toward the window. But then he stopped, staring down in horror. "My mom's roses? Agh!"

Optimus looked down, lifting one of his pedes and saw the crushed remnants of the plant Sam was referring to. He huffed air through his intakes. Did the youth not know enough to know that the glasses were of far more immediate importance than some form a plant? But Sam was still babbling on about the destroyed foliage, reminding Optimus that he was still unused to humans and their peculiarities.

Already his impatience had almost cost devastating complications to this mission. He strove for patience, but knew he had to respond to the boy.

"Oops." It was all he could think of. He put a hand over his face, shaking his head.

Sam was saying something about his mother's temper. How it related to the crushed plants, Optimus was not sure, but he did relate to the fear of engendering the wrath of a femme caretaker.

"Calm down, calm down." He gestured to the boy.

"Look." Sam took a deep breath. "I need you to give me five minutes okay? Five minutes. You're asking me to look, and I'm looking. But you're making a racket and I can't think. Okay? Five minutes. That's all I ask."

Optimus sighed, pulling another gust of air through his systems. Wasn't he the one who had reminded Bumblebee that organic nervous systems could only take so much? In his impatience, he had forgotten that. These were not Cybertronian younglings who could be so strongly pushed to improved performance. They had to be handled more delicately.

He nodded to the boy. Then straightened. "Autobots, fall back."

Bumblebee's doorwings drooped with relief. He knew his charge – as well as he could given the short amount of time they had been together – and he could tell the stress was beginning to takes its toll. He was quick to move away from the building, back toward the alley that had hidden them earlier.

Then the scout heard Ratchet's irritated voice, followed quickly by the tell-tale clang of metal as he cuffed another 'bot. "He wants us to be quiet. Can't you be quiet?"

Ironhide started to snark a reply when suddenly Ratchet jerked backward, sparks enveloping his chest. Then his upper torso spun a complete three-hundred and sixty degrees even as he toppled to the ground.

The vibration of his landing shook all the buildings in the immediate area, sparks still flying from where he lay tangled in several strands of Earth electrical cable.

"Oooh, that's tingly!" Ratchet exclaimed, trying to claw his way free of the wires and then giggled. _Giggled._"You gotta try that!"

"Yeah. That looks fun." Was Ironhides droll reply as he shook his head. Gesturing dismissively, the black Autobot walked away as the Medic thrashed about on his back.

Optimus considered his CMO, covering his face with his hand again, hearing the indications of sudden concern and fright coming from inside Sam's dwelling. Something about an 'earth quake.'

Reaching down to help his Chief Medical Officer, Optimus shook his head again. _This __is _not _how __I __wanted __to __make __first __contact __with __this __species! __Can __it __get __any __worse?_

Suddenly random discharging electrical flashes from the nearest transformer started a chain reaction, plunging the entire block and two surrounding blocks into darkness.

_Well, slag._

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><p><em>I know, I know, that wasn't a very nice place to leave it hanging was it? He, he, he. Don't worry, I'll have the second part of this scene up as soon as possible. Thanks to everyone who is following this story. As always please review.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_I apologize for the delay. I had a lot of things come up at work and just did not get a lot of time to write on this the past week. Plus, believe it or not, this chapter just did not want to get written. Like pulling teeth, actually. I hope it is acceptable, though I know it is on the short side._

_Warning: some sexual content mentioned in this scene (nothing graphic, just, well... If you've seen the movie, you know what I'm talking about.)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional. _

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><p>"What!"<p>

Sam's cry from inside the house spurred Optimus back into motion. _/Ironhide, __get __Ratchet __up./_He commanded, ignoring the black warrior's muttered grumblings.

_/Dude, I don' think the kid can see. It be dark as all get out in there! Man, that blows./_

Optimus covered his face with one hand as he turned back to the house. _/Jazz, __discontinue __any __human __adolescent __translation __matrixes __immediately __and __wipe __the __files. __Now./_ He would not have his second in command on Earth sounding like _that.__/Ratchet, __Ironhide: __provide __the __humans __some __light./_

Bumblebee shook his head as he focused back on Sam's dwelling. The boy's room lit up as both Ratchet and Ironhide switched on the headlights now recessed within their chest plates.

Sam, however, was not very appreciative. He ran to the window closest to Ironhide.

"Hurry." Ironhide prompted curtly.

"What's with the light?" Sam seemed close to hysteria, apparently unfazed by Ironhide's innate gruffness. Not that Bumblebee was surprised. If Sam could stare down the walking tank when his cannons were pointed at him, why would he be intimidated now?

Sam was waving his arms. "Turn off the lights. Tell him to turn off the light." He gestured toward Ratchet then made a loud huffing sound before disappearing back inside.

_/Dude. What's up his cra...?/_

_/Jazz!/_

_/Right, Boss-Bot!/_

Movement inside the house caught Bumblebee's attention again. He interrupted his superior officers. _/Quiet! __The __parents./_

Thankfully it worked. All the Autobots froze.

"Sam?" A female voice came from just outside the room Sam and Mikaela were in. "What's going on?"

"His door's locked." That was the voice of Sam's father. Then he spoke more loudly. "What have I said about locked doors in my house?"

_/Perhaps __we __shoulda __stayed __where __tha __boy __first __asked __us __to./_ Jazz murmured over the comm. At least he was back to sounding normal.

Optimus only grunted in agreement as Sam's father started counting, though he could not discern what purpose that might serve.

"Why are you so dirty and sweaty?" Sam's mother demanded after the offending portal had been opened.

"You know… I'm a teenager. I'm a child. I'm supposed to be."

"What's with the light?" That was the boy's father.

"What light? You have a light right there." Bumblebee could tell Sam's tension was increasing. Considering how stressed the teen was already, the yellow scout was not sure how much more his delicate biological systems could tolerate. "You can't do this. You can't just barge in here. You have to knock first."

"We knocked." Both parents chorused.

Bumblebee glanced at Ironhide's questioning look and shrugged. How was he supposed to know what was going on with these rather unpredictable human creators?

"No, you were yelling." Sam's heart was beating much faster than was healthy. "This, this is repression, what you're doing right now. You're… uh… you're ruining my youth."

_/We __don__'__t __have __time __for __this./ _Ironhide grumbled again, busily scanning for a reappearance of that faint Decepticon signal.

_/Patience, __Ironhide. __My __impatience __is __what __lead __us __to __this unfortunate __delay./_ Optimus reminded his weapons specialist. Like the great leader that he was, Optimus did not hesitate to admit his mistakes. _/We must not make matters worse./_

Before Ironhide could reply, something changed in Sam's voice that brought all the Autobot's attention back to the conversation inside the house. "Do I mastu… No! Mom! I don't Masturbate. Ew."

"Judy, no. That's a father-son... thing."

The Autobots glanced at each other as Sam's mother kept talking as if she had not heard either of the males. "You don't have to call it that if it makes you uncomfortable. You can call it… 'Sam's Happy Time.' Or 'My special alone time with…'"

_/What __are __they __talking __about __now?/_ Optimus asked, not sure whether to be intrigued at the unusual conversation or concerned at the continued delay.

Bumblebee buried his face in one hand, though whether it was in embarrassment or an attempt to keep himself from laughing, none of the other Autobots knew. At their clueless expressions, Bumblebee wordlessly sent the others the same data pack he had sent Optimus then sent all of them instructions on what subfiles to look at. All this took only a handful of seconds.

Their responses were nearly instantaneous and almost simultaneous.

_/Oh, my./_ Optimus blinked.

Jazz almost glitched._ /Ew, gross./_

Ironhide shook his head. _/Ugh. Seriously?/_

_/Fascinating./_ Ratchet's optics flickered slightly as he accessed the Internet for more technical data.

The occupants of the house had grown relatively quiet. So, Optimus chanced a quick look inside. And came face to rump with the adult male he assumed to be Sam's father.

"Oh, parents." He drew back quickly. Too quickly. As he brushed the side of the building, the whole structure shook.

"Earth quake! Earth quake!" A male voice wailed in abject terror. Sam's father.

A glance back in the building showed Optimus that the adult was now crouched in a small porcelain tub. _How __is __that __protective __action __for __a __quaking __of __the __ground?_ He thought briefly but then the human was unfolding himself and Optimus drew back just as Sam's father started stumbling toward the window.

"Quick, hide." He commanded his soldiers.

With a grunt, Ironhide pressed himself against the segment of wall next to the window he had been shining the light in. Ratchet did the same. Bumblebee ducked down and then ducked under the porch, wincing as his doorwings brushed the delicate lights hanging from the beams. Thankfully none of them fell. Tallest of them all, Optimus backed himself against the building, almost bending over backwards in a relatively useless attempt to make his loud blue and red paint scheme blend in with the brown bricks and shingles.

Jazz darted first to a section of wall only to glimpse Sam's father approaching that window. He ducked down and hurried out of the line of sight. "Hide, where? Man – O – man. No. Damn…"

Thankfully, the human was not looking down where Jazz had crammed himself awkwardly into a semi-concealed space. He was looking at the fountain Optimus' had inadvertently crushed. "Would ya' look at that. Destroyed the lawn. It's gone."

Optimus wanted to apologize to the distressed man, but an acute sense of self-preservation prevented it. He did not know what the human could have done to him, but he suddenly did not want to find out. Bumblebee had definitely been right in his judgment call not to reveal himself to Sam's parents. For a moment, though he feared he might have to in order to save his life as the human leaned precariously out the window.

The man withdrew his upper body back inside.

All of the mechs relaxed slightly as the humans started talking amongst themselves once more.

"The parents are annoying. Can we take them out?" Ironhide grumbled quietly, one of his cannons spinning to life.

Optimus gestured sharply especially when Ratchet almost bounced up and down muttering agreement. "Ironhide! You know we don't harm humans. What is with you?"

"I'm just saying… It's an option." Ironhide looked down.

Optimus narrowed his optics; suddenly realizing it would be wise to get his Autobots away from this quickly deteriorating situation. Their presence had done nothing but complicate matters. It was rather humbling to realize Sam – an _adolescent_ organic – had been right to ask them to stay hidden from the beginning.

"Autobots, fall back." Optimus transformed back into his alt-mode and was quickly followed in that transformation by the others.

Without igniting his engine, so as to avoid drawing yet more attention, Optimus led the small team down the road several blocks away and to a location secluded enough they could transform back into their base-modes.

They were close enough to keep sensors on the boy and could respond if he needed help, but far enough away not to cause additional problems. Surely the two youth would be able to finish their tasks in a more efficient manner and would themselves calm down. Perhaps this mission would not be so easy to complete as Optimus had first assumed.

… … …

Things did progress more smoothly once the humans were left to themselves and their own devices. At least at first. It was Ironhide who detected the caravan of approaching terrestrial vehicles while the others were still trying to watch Sam's progress, though now from a safe distance.

Optimus considered the vehicles from their hiding place. "I see nothing to be concerned about they… wait. They are stopping at the Witwicky's"

Bumblebee watched, concerned as a swarm of human males, all in black suits, scattered around the dwelling, apparently scanning it with some type of primitive hand-held scanning equipment.

"Is it possible," Ratchet commented, "that they possess the means to detect our recent presence?"

"Surely not." Ironhide gave the low-pitched electronic equivalent of a grunt. "We have seen nothing indicating anything near that level of sophistication."

"Then why are they pointing their devices at the exact place Optimus was standing five point eight two of their earth minutes ago?"

Bumblebee's damaged vocal processors let out a jumbled mess of electronic gibberish as he saw the men in black suits take the entire Witwicky family and Mikaela out to their waiting vehicles, their arms cuffed behind their backs.

He instantly compared what his visual sensors were telling him with the files in his memory banks from Sam's recent arrest to know Sam was in trouble. He relayed that information to the others.

"This is an internal human problem." Optimus looked down at the smaller Autobot. "We must not involve ourselves or interfere in the internal affairs of other species, Bumblebee. We have not been invited to do so."

Bumblebee calmed himself and transmitted copies of the relevant files that he had downloaded concerning Sector-Seven. /_Sam __still __has __the __glasses. __Sector-Seven __are __the __ones __responsible __for __incarcerating __Sam__'__s __grandfather. __We __cannot __know __what __they __will __do __to __him, __I __believe __his __life __might __be __in __danger./_

The others were silent for a moment as they reviewed the files, then Jazz spoke. "Bumblebee's right. Without tha glasses, the odds o' succeedin' in findin' the AllSpark decrease exponentially. We have yet ta detect the Cube's signal."

Optimus considered their options then nodded. "There is something else. It seems more likely that this is happening because of our presence. If that is so, we must act to correct the misfortune our actions have unintentionally caused."

The other Autobots nodded in agreement.

"Optimus," Ironhide interrupted again, never having removed his attention from the unwanted visitors. "From their current heading, speed and the extrinsic configuration of the road system, I extrapolate that they will be at these coordinates in six point one eight minutes." The weapon's master looked at his leader. "We should be able to intercept them at that location." He sent the coordinates.

Optimus ran his own computations and nodded. "I concur. Autobots, roll out."

En mass the convoy of unique vehicles collapsed in on themselves only a second before they pulled onto the street.

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><p><em>I know, maybe it is just me, but this chapter seems a little awkward. Like I said, this was like pulling teeth, so between all the screaming in pain and inane wailing, its is bound to be a little awkward. As always, please review.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_I know, I know. It has been an obscenely long time since I have updated this story. I apologize for that. I can only blame real-life, severe writer's block and being abducted by a horde of plot-bunnies. Here is another chapter. I will not attempt to estimate a time frame for the next. _

_This is for all of you who continued to review this story or otherwise lovingly pestered me with encouragement to continue. I do not want those efforts to go unrewarded. ;-)_

_To everyone who let me beat ideas back and forth about how to pull this part off convincingly, I thank you. Unfortunately, I have to admit, I didn't use ANY of the ideas bandied about. Even ones I came up with. Nope. As I wrote this I still had no idea how, exactly, I wanted to take it and still did not know for sure until my fingers were typing it out. So… hope it works. :D_

_Please enjoy!_

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><p>Optimus and the others actually reached the intercept point well ahead of the speeding human vehicles. Though he could not pick up the conversation taking place with his audio preceptors, Optimus's sensors could pick up Sam and Mikaela's increasing stress levels.<p>

_/His systems are reaching critical levels./_ Ratchet announced at the same time Optimus came to the same conclusion.

_/I do not understand tho'/_ Jazz murmured over the channel as he took the position Optimus instructed him to take. _/How can tha' kid be more afraid o' his own kind than he is o' us?/_

_/He wasn't at first./_ Bumblebee reminded them, a hint of chagrin in his electronic tone. _/But it is true that it was not __**this**__ bad./_

Optimus let them chat as he quickly reviewed once more the files Bumblebee had sent concerning Sector Seven and realized that Bumblebee was correct to be concerned for his charge. That organization had more in common to the Decepticons in its proclivity to using secrecy and deceptive tactics to achieve its aims.

As the black vehicles drew closer, Optimus was able to discern the conversation. What he heard made his systems heat with rare anger.

A human male was turned back to face the two young people, clearly agitated. "I can make you disappear. Forever. It is time to talk!"

Optimus growled, his engine rumbling threateningly enough to cause the other Autobots to look at him curiously. He might not be an expert yet on human customs, but that did not stop his ethical and protective subroutines from throwing up warnings. To hear that man _threaten_ the younglings at all, let alone threaten them because of him and the other Autobots… that was _not_ acceptable.

No decent sentient creature threatened children. Especially over a situation said youth had no control over. He had already watched far to many innocent lives extinguished by the Decepticons - including far to many younglings - unable to prevent it from happening. While these humans were not Decepticons, they were acting like them. And it made the energon running through his system boil.

Optimus carefully computed the physical tolerances of the vehicle's human passengers even as he made his decision. Transforming as the human vehicles passed under a bridge, Optimus dropped to the ground in front of them. He let his impact with the ground, perhaps a hint more forceful than necessary, bleed away some of his sudden and un-Prime-like fury. After all, as angry as he was, Optimus was not about to _harm_ the humans.

"Optimus!" Ironhide called out to him as the leading vehicle slammed into his pede with enough force, yet at a sufficient angle to halt its progress while not killing its occupants. He had calculated the angle and the forces involved necessary to ensure the black vehicle only glanced off one pede before it hit the other. The first impact was sufficient to dissipate enough force so that the second impact was only jarring rather than life threatening for its fragile organic occupants.

Ironhide continued to gripe at him for improvising, but Optumus ignored the weapons specialist as he reached down, grasping the vehicle by its ridiculously frail frame. He ignored the terrified screams of its passengers. These aggressively arrogant humans needed a lesson and he could not let guilt at causing them fear prevent him from delivering that message.

No, he could not bring himself to feel bad about making the adults feel the same terror they had subjected the children to. That thought alone helped to dispel the red haze that was slowly starting to cloud his optics. He only hoped the children would continue to trust them after this episode.

Optimus briefly scanned the other humans, who had quickly stopped their vehicles and were climbing out to confront him. All of them held some kind of primitive weapon, which they were leveling at him.

_/Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet, Bumblebee./_ Optimus commanded, feeling the weak metal begin to crack under his prying fingers. _/Create a perimeter./_

His command was acknowledged as the body of the vehicle fell free from the segment of the hood Optimus had been holding. It fell the few feet he had been holding it and bounced on its wheels.

Thankfully, the screaming stopped as he tossed the handful of scrap metal to the side.

Optimus turned back to see four organic faces staring up at him in shock. Then they blinked, squinting against the glaring of the headlights that were now imbedded in his chassis. For Sam and Mikaela's sakes more than the offensive adult's, but still not wanting to subject any of them to more hardship than necessary, Optimus offlined those lights.

All four humans grew still as they stared up at him with lower jaw slightly agape. Even if the language files had not included information about human body language, Optimus would doubtless have had little trouble in interpreting those expressions. Even so, a part of his processors took a moment to ponder over what an unusual response to surprise it was, as well as the interesting scientific ramifications that every human, regardless of ethnic heritage responded the same way.

Then, inexplicably, a hint of a smile glossed over Sam's highly expressive face as he leaned forward. His words were addressed to the two adults of his own species, even if his eyes never left Optimus.

"You A-holes are in trouble now." Sam's erratic heart rate started to slow as his confidence grew, regardless of the fact his arms were still restrained behind his back. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet my friend: Optimus Prime."

It might have been a touch premature for the boy to call him a friend – at least from a Cybertronian perspective – however the title pleased Optimus. Besides, for all he knew, it might be perfectly normal for a life-form that only lived a single vorn to form friendships so quickly.

The adults were looking up at him, looking for all the known worlds like startled sparklings. That observation helped ease some the remaining anger Optinus felt, reminding the Autobot leader that humans were indeed a young race. It was for that reason alone that his next statement was phrased more like he might address a wayward youngling than a Decepticon.

"Taking the children was a bad move." He noticed the other humans with the weapons were starting to get a little too bold. He glanced at Jazz. "Autobots, relieve them of their weapons."

With well-practiced efficiency, the other Autobots swung down from the bridge. The relatively soft ground of Earth – even if covered with their rather brittle concrete –shook under the combined force of their landings, causing the standing organics to stumble and flail for their balance

Ironhide was the first arrive, his cannons whirling to life as he defensively covered the group of increasingly agitated humans. Optimus knew his weapons' specialist would not actually use those cannons on the humans. But at this point, there was no need to let _them_ know that.

Jazz ran up quickly, activating his magnetic grapple. "Give me those."

The annoying human who had been in the vehicle holding Sam and Mikaela had been vainly been attempting to regain control of the situation finally uttered a particularly meaningful "Woaha!" as all of the human agents' miniature weapons sailed from their grips.

Seeing that he finally had the adults' attention if not their respect, Optimus finally lowered himself to his knees. The stress hormones they were giving off soaked the air around them and like any organic creature, Optimus was well aware that if they were too stressed, they would not be able to handle the lesson he wished to give them.

"Hi, there." The leader waved weakly, though in general he kept his hands up. All of the humans were now keeping their hands up and in plain sight.

Interesting. It must be something significant to their culture, as he had certainly not asked them to do so.

For that matter, while they reacted with only a little fear they did not react with shock. Furthermore there was a light in the leader's eyes, something that spoke of excitement rather than sheer terror. Not how Sam had behaved, according to Bumblebee's report. It was, of course, possible that he was misreading the situation.

Deciding to either confirm or refute his suspicion, he asked, "you do not seem afraid. Are you not surprised to see us?

"Look." The dark headed adult waved one hand in a manner Optimus took to be almost dismissive. "There are S-Seven protocols. Okay? I'm not authorized to communicate with you except to tell you that I can't communicate with you."

That made Optimus' vents hitch. This human sounded like an old-fashioned bureaucratic glitch. The type that had helped feed the discontent that had eventually led to the war that had destroyed Cybertron. All because they stubbornly stayed buried in regulations without even trying to respond to the situation around them. He knew the dangers of imposing Cybertronian standards on aliens, but he felt the Matrix stir within him, confirming his impressions.

Regardless of what comparison he might choose to make, such an individual was impossible to teach.

Optimus' patience with these humans was nearing its terminus. First they treat younglings of their own kind in such a despicable manner, and now this? His anger growled through his chassis

"Get out of the car."

"Wha…? You want me to get out of the…" The humans voice had turned _patronizing._

Patronizing!

"NOW!" Optimus barked, not about to let this glitch mouse of a sentient being speak to him in such a manner. Not after what he had done.

Thankfully, the human hastened to obey. The ones standing idly beside the vehicle even hopped into action to get the two adults and the two teenagers out of the vehicle.

Mikaela helped Sam out of the cuffs that bound them, for which Optimus was glad, as he seriously doubted the adult humans would be willing to provide that service. Meanwhile the leader of the humans was mumbling something about 'big guys with big guns.'

_/What is it with the adults of this species?/_ Ironhide asked incredulously. _/They are more outlandish than the younglings. Isn't that… backwards?/_

_/They aren't all like that./ _Bumblebee warned quietly.

_/All the ones we've met so far have been./_ Ironhide countered. _/Glitched. The lot of them./_

_/Now 'Hide that ain't a very nice way ta speak about our hosts./_ Jazz chided as he absently investigated the weapons he was holding. _/These 're nothin' more than primitive chemically propelled metal projectiles. Wouldn'ta done a thing to us… 'cept ding tha paint a little./_

/_Don't underestimate them._/ Bumblebee warned again. _/They've managed to hold Megatron captive for several of their decades./_

Optimus cleared his vents as he continued to watch the beings in front of him. The human adults seemed unsure what to do and were quite nervous. _/We need information. If they know where Megatron is, they may also know the location of the AllSpark./_

_/That one seems quite unstable mentally. Even for the standards of their own species./_ Ratchet interjected. _/I do not believe he will be able to answer questions intelligibly. Not from one of us./_

As if he had been privy to their conversation, Sam had left his discussion with Mikaela and was approaching the adult who had terrorized him. All of the Autobot's fell silent to observe the upcoming conversation, each one curious as to how this youngling would face someone who had so clearly frightened him earlier.

The boy began a series of rapid-fire questions, all of which the adult shrugged off.

_/He still thinks this is a game./_ Ironhide grumbled. _/Glitch./_

_/If one of our younglings were acting like this supposed adult, we would wash his glossa with solvent for such rudeness./ _Ratchet growled, his engine revving.

_/Forget cleaning it./_ Jazz argued. _/His needs ta be loosened so he'll spill./_

Optimus was wracking his processor to find a way to get what he needed from this human without doing further harm. He did not doubt Bumblebee's assessment of this Sector-Seven's danger. But at the moment, they were rather harmless.

It remained, however, that they probably did have information he needed. This left them at a dilemma. While they needed the information, they could not take it by force without becoming like the very ones they were fighting against. This thought process was leading him a direction Optimus did not care to explore.

It was at that moment that Bumblebee unstopped one of his fluid intake valves. Gravity caused the lubricant in the surrounding lines to spill out. Optimus started to rebuke the impulsive scout for the reckless loss of fluid when he saw that the stream of fluid had a target. The annoying human adult.

That human was sputtering and Bumblebee seemed inordinately pleased with himself. Releasing a vent as the human demanded Bumblebee be made to stop, Optimus flicked his hand toward the scout.

"Bumblebee, stop lubricating the man." _/We do not harm humans!/_ He added silently, wanting to remind his soldiers, but not wanting to make these Sector-Seven humans too comfortable.

_/He wasn't harmed, sir./_ Bumblebee returned, oddly petulant as he shrugged.

_/You **know** what I mean./_

_/Yes, sir./_ Bumblebee still appeared unrepentant and Optimus gave him a glare while the human male continued to sputter. _/He threatened my charge./_ Bumblebee finally relented. _/That's all I could do without actually hurting him./_

Mikaela was telling this Simmons character to take his clothes off, something that seemed a further humiliation in line with Bumblebee's lubrication of the man. Perhaps his scout had been onto a legitimate method of dealing with such things. They had not been on Earth long enough to know all the customs. Bumblebee, who had been here the longest, was in the best position to know. Optimus filed the scenario for further review and analysis later when time permitted.

It was for this reason that Optimus chose not to chastise the scout further. Even so, he felt the necessity to remind all of his warriors of the principles for which they fought, the reason they were here to begin with.

_/With the AllSpark on this world it is only a matter of time before our war follows us here. Unless we can regain custody of the Cube before the Decepticons find it. Even then, we cannot guarantee that the Decepticons will not try to punish this world for the role it unintentionally played./_ He looked at each one of his Autobots. _/We must not allow harm to come to the people of this world. We must do what we can to protect them from the actions of our own kind./_

One by one his warriors gave indications of assent and agreement. Just then, Optimus thought he heard the sound of an approaching rotary-winged aircraft.

"Optimus, we have incoming!" Ironhide proclaimed suddenly, pushing Ratchet out of the way so that he could send a sonic blast through the cement roadway. It was a non-lethal blast but it served to disable the vehicles approaching them.

However, that maneuver did nothing to stop the aircraft. The last Prime ground his denta, Earthen aircraft were very fragile. It would be far too easy for the humans inside said aircraft to be offlined if they were to allow an open confrontation with one. He could not allow that. He had to act quickly, knowing there was no way they could defend themselves against such an assault without harming the humans.

But these seemed like a persistent species. Even so, they could not hope to accost all of them. Limited in resources as they were and facing such a plainly superior foe, Optimus considered it likely that the humans would choose to focus their efforts on one target. Very well.

It was not a risk he could ask any of his soldiers to take. But it was something he could do himself.

_/Split up, I will draw the humans away./_ Optimus ordered. "Autobots, Roll Out."

To their credit, all of his Autobots followed orders, despite a bevy of commed protests, folding into their earthen alt-modes.

Bumblebee started to head for where the two teenagers where frantically backing away, scanning the sky for the helicopter they could now hear as well. But Optimus ordered the scout to move out, not wanting the youngest of his warriors to risk getting caught.

_/I will protect the children, Bumblebee./_ He reassured. _/Retreat. Now!/_

Clearly unhappy, Bumblebee did as he was ordered.

Optimus lowered his hand towards the two frightened youth, belatedly realizing he had no guarantee they would trust him. Perhaps he should have let them go with the scout, whom they had already learned to trust.

"Up you get." He told them in what he hoped was a friendly and reassuring manner; not wanting to sound like a master barking at a pet.

The two glanced at each other, glanced in the direction of the approaching aircraft and then, surprisingly, hurried toward his open palm.

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><p><em>I know it was a long wait and I know this was relatively short (a couple of pages shy of the average on this fic). I wanted to get something up, so this is what I came up with. I wish I could say the next one will be up quickly, but… yeah… you know my track record on that. I will keep plugging away at it though. Let that be motivation to review frequently and often :) I can use all the loving encouragement I can get :D<em>

_Again, thank you for your patience. Hopefully that much will not be required in the future._


	11. Chapter 11

_Hahaha, I bet everyone believed I'd forgotten about this little story? No, not forgotten, though I do apologize for the ridiculously long wait. As you have probably discovered, my other muses have completely taken over my writing time. That, and this one is rather difficult to write, simply because the tone and the style is so different than my typical writing. _

_So, guess what? This chapter is blend between the way I have written the earlier portions of First Arrival and my more usual style. I tried, I really tried to make it the same but… The first portions of this story were written __**before**__ I even knew FanFic existed so I had absolutely no influencse save for my own imagining, the movie's novel and the movie itself. I knew nothing of the characters or Cybertronian society other than what the movie showed… meaning __**nothing!**_ _As I have learned more, my understanding is better and, fortunately or unfortunately, that bleeds over into my writing. I just cannot write as if I were still ignorant of, say Bumblebee's status as the youngest Autobot… Heck, I didn't even know what a vorn or joor or a decavorn were. Nor did I know that that 'spark in my chest' that Optimus referred to in the movie was called, well… a spark. _

_That said, I hope you will enjoy this latest installment and rest in the knowledge that, even if it takes a long time, the next one will follow at some point._

_My thanks to everyone who has faithfully stuck with this story, I sincerely hope it does not disappoint._

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><p>Optimus made his way through the city, cringing as his pede-falls damaged the surprisingly fragile surface of the human roadways. Bearing that in mind, he was careful not to accidently brush buildings, horrified at the potential harm that could cause.<p>

Silently he berated himself. He should have transformed with the rest of his mechs, then he could have traversed this alien landscape with more ease while causing less damage to the local infrastructure.

That was his answer, he had to get away from human population. Downloaded maps of the area showed a more industrial zone, with few humans populating it. The area also had a large bridge that might provide cover from the rotary aircraft that was having no trouble following him.

Determinably, Optimus headed for the nearest overpass that he calculated would serve his purposes. He sent a communications ping to the four other Autobots giving them the coordinates so that they could rendezvous there.

Belatedly, Optimus realized that if the bridge was tall enough to allow him to stand under it in mech form, it was also tall enough to allow the helicopter to pass under it as well. He silently bemoaned the fact he was not used to dealing with such tiny creatures and quickly set a part of his processors onto the problem.

In his hand, Sam and Mikaela looked frightened, but neither seemed inclined to risk jumping from this height. It indicated they were not suicidal and were able to judge the dangers of such things. That was a good sign.

Making another decision, Optimus held his hand up to grant them easy access to his shoulder plating. Taking the hint, they crawled onto the heavy armor pieces as Optimus now used his freed hand to lever himself up into the steel and concrete undergirding of the bridge. Bracing his hands and his feet against the alien construction, Optimus trusted his initial scans of the pursuing aircraft were accurate and that they would have no ability to detect him if he was _above_ its flight path. He only hoped the native metal that surrounded him would hide him from whatever, doubtlessly primitive, sensors they had.

Unfortunately, he had also made yet another miscalculation in regards to humans: their ability to hold securely to slippery metal surfaces against the pull of gravity.

His borderline panicked "Hold on…" could do nothing against the inevitable.

… … …

Bumblebee gunned his engines hard as he saw Mikaela dangle from Sam's grip, her lightweight body unable to combat the downdraft created by the helicopter's rotating blades. But even a base-model salvage drone could calculate that he would not make it in time.

Disdaining the need to maintain his disguise, Bumblebee cut in his own propulsion system.

Then he saw both humans fall. He pushed himself even faster. Optimus attempted to extend his lower leg, for them to grasp, but human flesh was ill-equipped to take advantage of the attempt and they continued falling.

Bumblebee transformed at the last possible second, his thick chassis armor striking sparks off the pavement, but he caught both humans before they could hit the ground. His momentum carried them just over a hundred meters before they stopped and Bumblebee's systems did an automatic check that revealed no structural or internal damage.

With extreme care, Bumblebee set the two humans on the ground, supporting each with a gentle metal digit until their own legs could support them.

Sam gazed up at him, looking dazed. "You… you saved us." Sam's eyes traveled over Bumblebee's body, where the high-speed impact had scraped and dented non critical epidermal surfaces. Already his regenerative systems were starting to repair the damage, but Sam could not know that.

His eyes widened. "Oh no, Bumblebee, are you okay?"

Bumblebee nodded, pleased that Sam cared. Then he heard the throbbing sound of approaching helicopters… several of them. He started scanning the area. He found all three of them quickly. They were close enough for the humans on board to have already seen him in his primary form, so transforming back into his guise was out of the question. He straightened, placing himself between the approaching aircraft and his two teenage human friends. Could he call them friends? He hoped so.

_/Bumblebee, even for Sam's sake, we must not harm the humans./ _Optimus warned him as he dropped into a fighting stance.

But Bumblebee knew that and had no intention of harming any of them, only of shielding Sam and Mikaela until the others could arrive and talk sense into these humans.

One of the helicopters fired some kind of projectile. Bumblebee moved to block it and it was not until it separated into several pieces to wrap around his wrist that he realized he had miscalculated.

They did not want Sam and Mikaela. They wanted _him_.

The helicopter continued to fly by. It would have been next to nothing for Bumblebee to hold fast, but doing so would pull the craft from the sky and he counted six humans on each helicopter. So he allowed the human's to jerk him around. Beneath him, Sam was yelling as loud as he could, "No, no, no. Stop, you can't do that. No!"

Another grapple grabbed Bumblebee's other wrist and yanked, again he allowed it to go unchallenged. He managed to keep one leg under him and to stay semi upright, without felling either craft.

Bumblebee looked down at Sam and could clearly read the horror there. Where once that look had been directed at Bumblebee, now it was on his behalf. Even as other humans came and forced him to the ground as well, Sam's eyes remained focused on Bumblebee.

"Bumblebee!" He yelled.

Bumblebee wanted to explain why he was allowing this to happen, why he could not protect Sam from them, but he could not. He wandered if the boy could understand the larger issues, the larger principles at stake.

Another grapple caught the leg that was supporting Bumblebee and he was yanked down to the ground with a loud metallic crash.

He was not truly damaged, little a human could do to him could truly hurt him. But nor could he free himself without harming them. He would wait. As an Autobot, he knew about time. He could out wait these fleshlings. His real enemies were elsewhere.

_/Bumblebee, there is no way we can rescue you without harming the humans./_ Optimus' transmission was filled with regret.

_/I know./_ Bumblebee acknowledged somberly. Optimus would blame himself, he always did when one of his soldiers fell in battle. Bumblebee did not want that. _/There is nothing you could have done, sir. I understand./ _

Chances were, if Megatron was the only other robotic life-form they had encountered, the human leaders might consider all of them to be an equal threat.

It was a realization he shared with Optimus and the others, just before shutting down his transmission frequencies. Clearly the humans had ways of tracking their movements. He did not want to take the chance they could detect their transmissions and so find his friends.

He looked back at Sam, willing him to understand.

"Look, he's not fighting back." Sam cried out when his eyes met Bumblebee's optics.

With that exclamation, Bumblebee felt relieved, though still guilty for not being able to protect his charge. But at least Sam not only understood, he was trying to make the others understand as well. He just did not know if the boy would be able to do so.

Then Bumblebee became aware of a strange creeping cold sensation on his armor and focused his attention back on the humans around him. They were firing some sort of cold substance at him. Quick chemical analysis indicated it was liquid nitrogen. As it seeped through his outer plating, his internal lubricants began to become more viscous and the servos in his various joints began to grow sluggish. He could move, but it was labored and slow.

"No! Stop! You can't do this!" Sam's frantic yell snapped Bumblebee's attention back to him. He had somehow escaped his captors and was running toward Bumblebee.

Bumblebee tried to warn the youth off, but it came out in a garbled mess that sounded to human ears like a moan. It only made Sam work harder. So Bumblebee watched helplessly as the young human who had backed down from a somewhat larger fellow adolescent tackled a fully-grown and armed adult.

Caught off guard by the assault, the agent sprawled forward. Sam grabbed his strange weapon and aimed it at him.

Bumblebee tried to warn him, but Sam was then tackled by five other agents. The youth had no hope of warding them off and was apprehended once again.

"I want him frozen and ready for transport, pronto."

Bumblebee heard the now infamous Agent Simmons yell at the other humans, still wearing his undershirt and colorful boxers, though his weapon's holsters had also been donned. As he stepped closer to Bumblebee he lowered his voice. "Who's pissing on who now, big guy?"

Bumblebee did not reply, he could not, regardless.

He could feel that crawling cold seep deeper into his circuitry and he realized – to his horror – that he was truly immobilized now. Motor commands could no longer reach appropriate relays let alone his servos. For the first time since Megatron had penned him against the ground so many vorns ago, Bumblebee found himself truly helpless. It was terrifying

And he knew this time help was not coming.

His systems sent out an automated distress call once that realization reached his primary cognitive matrix, despite his desire to protect the others.

As the cold crept deeper, Bumblebee did the only thing he could think of. He dove into stasis, shutting out the outside world into a comfortable blackness.

… … …

Optimus jerked when Bumblebee's distress signal abruptly cut off. Was he gone then? Had the humans managed to extinguish his spark, as unlikely as that seemed?

Optimus scanned the scene below him and heaved air through his vents. Bumblebee was not dead, merely in stasis.

"Optimus…" Jazz dropped down to where Optimus still hung from the bridge overhang. "We have ta do somethin'."

Optimus looked down, not answering immediately, and saw something he did not expect. The glasses must have fallen out of Sam's pocket when he fell. Cautiously, he started to let himself down.

He did not like what he had to say, but that did not change the facts. "There is no way to rescue Bumblebee without harming the humans."

It was the same thing he had told Bumblebee. That did not make it an easier burden to bear.

"But, it's not right…"

"Let them leave." Optimus dropped to the ground and then bent down and retrieved the glasses, delicate wire frame gripped with infinite gentleness between his fingers. Bumblebee's sacrifice would only prove useful if they found the AllSpark because of it.

But Optimus had also seen something else in the smaller Autobot during his struggle with the humans. Bumblebee had risked himself for Sam and Mikaela. It had been clear that thoughts of the AllSpark had not been forefront in his reasoning algorithms at the time.

While it was Autobot nature to defend and protect those weaker than themselves, it was foolish to think organics would understand or appreciate such sacrifice. At least that usually was the case.

Bumblebee's last transmission before the distress call had been insightful beyond the younger Autobot's few millennia. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps a way could be found to work with these humans.

Sam's actions had bespoken of bravery in its own right. His attack on the agent firing at Bumblebee had been akin to, say, Bumblebee taking on Megatron alone. Brave but foolish, in that there was no chance of victory. But also an act of desperation without thought of himself – a selflessness that, as impotent as the action had ended up being, actually inspired Optimus.

It did indicate that at least some humans and Autobots might be able to coexist well. There were many, many humans on this planet, and the simple statistical implications were that a significant number of them would _not_ be able to deal with either himself or the other Autobots on an intelligent basis. It was still possible however - as proven by the boy - but his logic algorithms did not like to depend on possibilities when he planned for the future.

And Optimus doubted any of his kind could confront any of the senior human authorities in an effort to break that mistrust without ending up like Bumblebee… or ending up with significant human blood on their hands. Neither of which was a viable option.

No, a human would have to bridge that gap in interspecies relations.

And right now, Samuel Witwicky was the only one who was in a position to do so.

Optimus only wondered if the young human would be given the chance, assuming he was even of a mind to do so in the first place. Given his physical attempt to help Bumblebee, he appeared to be. But organics tended to be fickle creatures at best. He could not plan on such support, could not proceed on the assumption he could depend on any human assistance.

The above deliberation took only the span of several seconds. Optimus looked up at where his friends were waiting for him to make a decision. None were happy with letting Bumblebee be taken, but for the moment at least, they were willing to continue following him.

"This location is not safe, they might return." Optimus stated. "We must find a more secluded location to decide our next move." No one objected. "Lets go."

… … …

It was an uneasy silence that claimed the team of Autobots as they headed out of the city and into more sparsely populated regions of the continent. Each mech kept their thoughts to themselves, though there was no doubt they primarily revolved around Bumblebee. Jazz's coolents continued to boil, knowing that he had allowed the younger mech to come to harm and had to resist the urge to let Optimus know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what he felt about it. Ironhide likewise let his processors stew over the irritation that, in not being willing to harm some arrogant and useless organics, the Prime had let the little scout be taken. Ratchet, on the other hand was doing his best to fight off a stab of uncharacteristic despair at knowing the real likelihood that one of the last younglings to be born before the AllSpark had been ejected was now lost to them.

Optimus, for his part, briefly allowed his processors to alternate between anger at the situation, irritation with himself for letting it get to that point and a solid dose of severe self-reproach.

As he had had to do with unfortunate frequency since the war had started, Optimus sought to find peace with himself so that he could focus on the situation and on making the next decision. As always, he managed to do so by promising himself that he would, as soon as it was safe, deal with his own pain and anger. Until then, he was still Prime and he had a duty.

And now, unfortunately, that duty extended beyond just that he owed to his own Autobots, but the innocent organics he had unintentionally involved in a conflict that was not theirs.

In this situation, with Bumblebee rendered off-line and possibly even extinguished at the humans' hands it would be easy to just allow his mechs to forget the standards they had sworn to uphold. But he also knew, that if that were to happen, then once the initial grief and shock wore off, even Ironhide would never forgive himself if they did not seek to safeguard the humans. It would be even worse if they were the direct cause that humans were harmed.

Thus, Optimus knew that it was his responsibility to remind his Autobots what they stood for, the principles they all held at spark. That task would play as important a role at their next stop as deciding what their next course of action would be.

At least he had the glasses Bumblebee had risked his spark to find. It was precious little, but in the end, it might have been a sacrifice that made it possible to return life to Cybertron.

The location the four Autobots eventually found themselves at, while probably a human habitation was currently unoccupied by the dominant species of the planet. It was a relatively large but aesthetically pleasing building made of natural materials that blended well into the local landscape.

All four Autobots transformed and moved to put sufficient space between them to be able to effectively guard their position should their presence draw unwanted Decepticon attention.

Slowly, Optimus lifted the glasses once again, carefully scanning the tiny, delicate object. It was almost impossible to believe that such a tiny and innocuous thing could possibly be of such significance to a race like their own.

"Please let this work." He begged softly as he looked up to see that his motions had attracted attention.

Jazz looked down from where he was standing on the roof of the building, next to one of the domes making up the structure's top line. "Fire it up, Optimus."

Optimus cast the saboteur a quick glance, hearing the well-controlled bite of lingering annoyance. But he did not call his Third in Command on it.

Instead, Optimus focused his optics back on the object held between his fingers and then reconfigured them for holographic output and projected the beams of light through the almost miniscule lenses of the primitive ocular device.

"The code… the code on these glasses indicates that the AllSpark is two hundred and thirty miles from here." He quickly compared the coordinates to a superimposed map of the location. "The distance should be easy and quickly traversed using our Earthen Alternate-modes."

Optimus released a resigned vent, snapping off both projections. "We should be able to find it without attracting any additional human attention."

Ratchet looked at where the map had been projected, one hand clenching. "I sense the Decepticons are getting ready to mobilize. Activity on their frequencies have picked up, though I have not been able to crack the codes they are currently using."

Ironhide growled lowly, though he nodded, not really surprised. "They must know it is here as well."

"What about Bumblebee?" Jazz demanded, turning away from where he had traced the fingers of one hand gently along the curves of a dark brown dome, to turn a fierce gaze back onto his Prime. "We can't just leave 'im to die! Or become some human experiment!"

Optimus heard the clear desperation and the beginning hints of hatred in Jazz's voice and it was for that reason, more than anything that his words came out strong and harsh. "He'll die in vain if we don't accomplish our mission! We all left many friends behind to search for the AllSpark. We all _knew_ it would be dangerous and that not all of us would see its completion. We must not allow ourselves to forget that."

He let his voice soften, seeing his point had been made. "Bumblebee also sacrificed himself for the human boy and his female companion, even more so than for the AllSpark. He would want us to do the same, should our war follow us here. He have a duty to protect human lives if necessary and we will. We must not allow our war to claim yet another innocent world, even if it means we loose some of our own. Bumblebee is a brave soldier, _this_ is what he would want."

"Why are we fighting to save the humans?" Ironhide demanded hotly, his armor flared in challenge. "They are a primitive and violent race."

It was true. Compared to Cybertronian culture, humanity had only existed for the blink of an optic shutter, barely a footnote in the grand sweep of time. They were primitive, human technology was such a far cry from their own as to be laughable. And, they had clearly proven they were violent. But…

"Were we so different?" Optimus asked, realizing what it was that made his mechs dislike the humans. They were far to similar to their own species, especially in all the negative aspects – to Decepticons in particular. Of course their long-standing hatred of the Decepticons would bleed over to an alien species that bore such a striking similarity. They had to be reminded that these tiny little organics were _not _Decepticons, even if some acted like it, no more than all Cybertronians were Decepticons.

He focused on all three of the Autobots standing with him. "They are a young species. They have much to learn." Unsaid was the fact they, as Autobots, could either accept the mantel of responsibility to teach them and help them grow out their immaturity or punish them for not knowing better. Something Optimus would not do.

"But I have seen goodness in them." Optimus reminded them, replaying a holographic display of Sam's desperate attempt to free Bumblebee, the risk the young human took in attacking his own kind to try and help an alien whom he had no reason to trust. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

Around the group, armor that had been flared settled back against frames as each Autobot allowed their Prime's words to remind them of who they were. They were Autobots and as such they had sworn to protect life, and to protect the freedoms all sentient creatures had a right to. It was who they were and they would be damned if they allowed eons of war to make them forget that.

"The only way we can spare this planet is to end the war." Ratchet said quietly. "You know that. Even if we take possession of the AllSpark, if we cannot defeat Megatron, he will punish Earth simply because he can and he lost his prize here."

Optimus nodded solemnly. No one spoke for a long moment, realizing that their CMO spoke the truth and that if they were serious about protecting the humans, it would be a commitment that would last far longer than the simple re-acquisition of the AllSpark. It could take vorns and, perhaps, yet more sacrifices.

After a long, contemplative silence, Optimus spoke again. "We all know there is only one way to end this war. We must destroy the AllSpark."

Their reactions were swift, and far from positive.

After the initial bevy of protests were countered and the truth of his assertion was grudgingly accepted, another tense silence fell. Defending the humans from the Decepticons was one thing, willingly destroying the future of their own world for them? That was, as the human saying went, a difficult pill to swallow.

But neither could they deny the truth. The last few decavorns of the conflict on Cybertron _had_ been fought for control of the AllSpark. Megatron to corrupt it and use it for his own twisted agenda and the Autobots to shield and protect, not just its existence, but its integrity.

"The AllSpark is the embodiment of life." Optimus said into the uneasy silence. "And yet in our war to dominate it, how many worlds have been left in ruin? How many billions of lives cut off? How many more will follow if it is not ended, _here_? No, the very essence of what the AllSpark _is_ continues to be sullied so long as we kill because of it. Even if the Cube survives, so long as we allow war to rage and consume, not just our own planet, but countless others we are a dying race. Perhaps we can end that now. Just as sending it off Cybertron was the only way to save the planet from complete destruction, destroying the Cube might very well be the only way to prevent our own extinction."

"How?" Jazz piped up, hands on his hips. "It ain't like anyone's done somthin' like that before."

"If fall else fails." Optimus told them, "I will unite the cube with my spark."

"That is suicide!" Ratchet clenched his fist in demonstration of his opposition to that idea. "The cube is raw power. It could destroy you _both."_ Unspoken was a pleading, demanding question: _Then where would we be?_

Optimus had no answer for that. He looked at Ratchet, with determined optics. "A necessary sacrifice, to bring peace to this planet."

They had all heard that tone in their leader's voice before and knew there would be no arguing with him. Optimus turned his gaze the direction he _knew _the AllSpark lay, his optics dilating to focus as far into the distance as they could. "We cannot let the humans pay for our mistakes."

In truth, it was fitting. At least in Optimus' mind. As Prime, he had no right to continue his existence if the AllSpark were destroyed. If it came to it, he would make the same sacrifice himself that he was forcing on his people, his entire planet, to make. The humans had a saying; that a captain should go down with his ship. No less so a Prime should go down with his world's hope. One way or another, Optimus knew the probabilities were he would not leave this planet on this side of the Matrix.

He focused back on his most loyal Autobots. "It was an honor serving with you all."

If it was a battle the Decepticons wanted, it was a battle they would get. Earth was not alone in this contest; the four of them would stand together.

"Autobots; Roll out."

"We rollin'" Jazz's standard quip when hearing that order was not said with the typical jauntiness it usually was. All of them knew that if their Prime were to see his own death on this little organic world, they would inevitably do likewise because they would not leave him.

Nevertheless, none of them hesitated.

* * *

><p><em>Hey, on the bright side, in recompense for the long wait, this chapter is *<em>_almost* twice as long as most of the previous ones. :D_

_As always, I hope you have enjoyed this enough to leave a review. Even if you didn't I still want to hear from you. _


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